


A Hat Isn't Hard To Knit

by OccultChiffon



Category: Bugsnax (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Light BDSM, Multi, Post-Canon, Threesome - F/M/M, it's about the yearning, polycule, romance with a side of some ancient ruins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccultChiffon/pseuds/OccultChiffon
Summary: About a year after the return from Snaktooth, Gramble Gigglefunny is struggling with feeling alone despite being surrounded by love, until two close friends invite him into their world for the summer. Eventual adult scenes. Companion piece to With Me.
Relationships: Filbo Fiddlepie/The Journalist, Snorpy Fizzlebean/Chandlo Funkbun, Wambus Troubleham/Gramble Gigglefunny/Triffany Lottablog
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	1. Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the companion fic to With Me, recently completed. This one takes place at the same time as With Me, though you don't need to read With Me in order to understand this one.
> 
> Perhaps you should read that one first, if you so choose. Enjoy.

When had things started to go to pot? Probably when he almost got hit by that car.

It took a year to acclimate back to life on the mainland after a year on Snaktooth, and Gramble knew things hadn't been going alright. Since returning from the island, he'd thought he'd been doing better for himself. For one thing, he wasn't alone anymore. He had friends- even a girlfriend. Wiggle may have been a bit much at times, but she cared, possibly more than any grumpus had in his life. Perhaps too much.

"I don't see the problem with it, darling," she had told him the first time Gramble had actually heard _An Ode To Gramble_ on the radio. He'd known she was working on it, but he never realized in his wildest dreams she'd actually _produce_ it. "Grumps love a love story!"

"It's just…" he said, tapping his paws together. He tried to keep up with her big personality, but it always seemed like a race he was destined to lose.

"Isn't it a little… revealing?"

Wiggle crossed her arms, bemused. "I'm not following."

"You could have maybe not used my name?"

"Darling," she replied, "the grumps deserve to know!"

Gramble wasn't entirely sure about that. Wiggle's insistence on showing him off slowly built more and more of a rift between them. The paparazzi were merciless, for one thing, and even though the shelters he volunteered at appreciated the publicity of having Wiggle Wigglebottom's paramour working with them (it brought in tons more grumps, which brought in tons more donations), Gramble was finding it harder and harder to even leave his home, just from being overwhelmed. For one thing, grumps wanted to do interviews with him. He did not like interviews very much.

When he found out _An Ode To Gramble_ was threatening to go gold, he lost it.

_"You deliberately made a song that turned me into some kind of media spectacle! Whether you meant it or not, you embarrassed the grump out of me!_ _I hope I never have to hear it again!"_

Gramble slammed his paws over his mouth. He had yelled at his girlfriend. Wiggle stood before him, startled, expression shocked and crestfallen. By next week, she had released a statement saying she would not be performing _An Ode To Gramble_ any longer and it was to be removed from online shops and streaming services. Yet, the damage had been done. She wasn't his girlfriend much longer after that.

His awful temper had gotten the better of him, again, and he’d said something hideous, again. He remembered he couldn't apologize enough to her, but he made no attempt to try and get her back. After about half a month they were back on uneasily friendly terms, and though he hated to admit it, he was very glad when his secondhand fame began to dissipate. 

At night, alone, he remembered Snaktooth. He remembered the bugsnax, how he thought they could be his family. Oh, how wrong he was. In theory he should have been happy with how things worked out. He missed Liz and Egg, but he had new friends now. He had a new family, even if things were bumpy. Why wasn't he happy?

He should have been overjoyed when Filbo proposed to Buddy. After all, they all owed Buddy their lives, he deserved a grump like Filbo as a partner. Someone to love and adore him. Yet as happy as he told himself he was, that nagging feeling whispered in his mind:

_That should be me._

What a treacherous thought. He had no feelings for Buddy or Filbo. Really, he didn't- but they had something that always seemed to elude him, be it entirely, or once clutched, only to slip out of his paws like the sand on his beach he'd once called home.

They had each other. Like most of his friends had. An other.

That night, Gramble woke up to blaring horns in the middle of the street in front of his house, his arms outstretched, barely lucid. The car had swerved at the last second, but the fur on his body was still standing on end from the near impact. It was when he knew things were dire.

"I thought things were going real well, then everything with Wiggle and now the sleepwalking is back…" he said to the bright green grumpus he'd invited over. Chandlo was a deceptively wise grump for his age, and he was a good listener.

"I don't know why I feel like this, I have friends now. I work with animals and grumps who need me, I'm not alone… but I'm still so _lonely…_ "

"Bro, sometimes when we're surrounded by others is when we feel the most isolated."

Gramble looked up from his tea. He liked tea, whites and herbals mostly. The kind he got from Shellsy, who was a connoisseur of that sort of thing. Coffee was too strong for him, and the last thing he needed was anything else keeping him up at night.

Chandlo smiled, offering a paw of comfort. Gramble took it, and sighed. "If you really wanna figure out what you're missing, dawg, you gotta look deep inside yourself and remember the last thing that made you feel like you were on top of the world. You gotta reconnect yourself with yourself, bro."

The pink grumpus closed his eyes, trying to remember. To focus on his suggestion. He'd _thought_ that line of thinking would lead him to Wiggle, before the fight, or maybe even Lizbert, or Buddy, or raising Sprout- but it was none of those things.

"Dancing."

"What?"

"Dancing. On Snaktooth. Filbo's party before the volcano went off and the snax went crazy. I was so… happy. Everything felt right."

"Bro, that's awesome!" Chandlo exclaimed. "Anything else?"

"Well…" he said thoughtfully. "I _was_ talking with Wiggle at the time, but I really think the night turned around when I reconciled with Wambus."

Something about their bitter rivalry culminating into friendship had stoked something within Gramble. For a brief moment, him and the brusque grump had reached an understanding of one another that culminated in their shared, stupid dancing.

Wambus had someone, too.

All he knew about Triffany was that she was kind and sweet, and maybe a little too obsessed with death. She was an archeologist with a big heart, and if you had asked Gramble a year ago, he'd have said Wambus didn't deserve her- but he couldn't deny that man loved her- he wouldn't have dressed up a cactus if he hadn't.

The last time he'd seen either of them was Filbo's inauguration. He remembered talking to them fleetingly. 

"Oh, we can't stay long, Wamby has the farm to tend to. The sauce crop is real strong right now, and I've got my research!"

Triffany did most of the talking, but when Wambus chimed in to talk about his ketchup, it was with a measure of pride Gramble found admirable. They played off each other well. He couldn't help but be a bit jealous.

"You coming to the wedding, dawg?"

Gramble sighed. "I should shouldn't I? But Wiggle will be there, and I don't want things to be awkward."

"It's been nearly a year, Gramble. Triff and Wambus will be there, too," Chandlo informed him. "Comin' all the way up from Grumps Virginia."

" _That's_ where they live, now?"

"Cheap farmland, bro."

In the end, the desire to see his two friends overrode his aversion to any situation that might have arisen with Wiggle. It had been a while, did they think about him at all? He didn't have a plus one for the ceremony, but sitting alone it was lovely all the same. Filbo dropped the index cards with his vows on them, but it turned out that he knew them by heart. He just hadn't realized it. It brought Gramble to tears.

"I'm so glad you could make it, Gramble!" Filbo had said at the reception, shaking his paw vigorously. "I was worried you wouldn't come!"

"Why?"

"Well, I mean, you know…"

Gramble smiled. "We're still friends, things are okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Things are _fine,_ " he said, and Filbo gave a little nervous laugh. 

"HEY is that Cromdo?" He exclaimed, and shuffled off towards the bar where the short grumpus was nursing his own problems. Gramble sighed in relief, and made his way towards a corner where he could try and relax. He thought about trying to look for Triff and Wambus, but his own nerves were stopping him.

In the end, they found him. A dainty paw landed on his shoulder, and if you didn't know any better you'd think it was Triffany's. Nope.

"Evenin' stranger," Wambus's deep voice cut through Gramble's thoughts, and he smiled up at the two of them, Triffany with an arm around her husband's waist as she waved pleasantly at Gramble.

"It's so good to see you, honey!" She said, and Gramble had to admit they looked good. He'd never seen them outside their work attire before, even if Wambus was still wearing his stupid hat that did not go with his suit _at all._

"Aw, it's good to see you guys, too," he said, smiling, but you could see the bags under his eyes. "You have no idea."

"Pardon my french, but you look like hell."

" _Wambus,_ " Triffany said, giving him a light-hearted little bap of her paw to his chest. "He does not!"

"I kinda do," Gramble let out a nervous laugh, "no hiding it, I haven't been sleeping much."

"Still?" Wambus asked. Gramble nodded.

"Well, that's no good!" Triffany exclaimed, shaking her head. Without her hat on you could actually see her hair, bobbing faintly atop her head. Cute little curls. "Have you tried sleep therapy? Hypnosis?"

"It's all anxiety, I think, same as on Snaktooth," Gramble confessed. "I've been a bit wound up…"

"I'm sorry,” said Wambus, “can’t imagine.”

His genuine apology did make Gramble smile, twiddling his thumbs together. "It's okay, i’m sure you know what it’s like, in your own way.”

"Still, it can't be easy," Triffany replied.

"Can we talk about something else?"

So, they did. They talked about the farm. It was a large plot of acreage in Grumps Virginia that Wambus had turned into a sauce farm and ranch, where they lived off the land, and mostly off the grid.

"Don't get me wrong, we've got electricity," Wambus said as Gramble listened in rapt attention. "But we try to be as independent as possible."

"I'll bet," Gramble said with a nod. "How about you, Triff?"

Triffany lit up, "I'm actually studying some ruins near the property! It's why the land was so cheap! They say it's haunted by the restless souls of the dead. I just had to check it out!"

She had him up until 'haunted by the restless souls of the dead'. Then he just stared at her, eyes wide. Triffany laughed.

"It's just a story, Gramble! It's just the remnants of an old settlement, but I'm _dying_ to uncover what happened there! They say the entire colony just vanished one day without a trace, leaving all of their belongings behind. No grave markers implies they didn't die per say, but it's been a long time, they could have decomposed."

"Land was cheap, soil was good, the place is historic- seemed like it was made for us," Wambus added. Gramble watched the two of them, and felt a pang in his chest. He was happy for their happiness. Of course he was, but at the same time, he longed for some of that of his own.

The music began to change, and Gramble looked behind to see Filbo and Buddy having their first dance. It was honestly adorable. Filbo couldn't stop giggling. He sighed, resting his chin on his hands as more couples joined them- and he was so busy staring he hadn't noticed Wambus whispering to Triffany, who nodded with a knowing smile.

"Would you like to have this dance?" She asked, and Gramble thought it was odd she was asking her own husband to dance with her, until he felt the finger poke into his side, and he looked up at her in her bronze dress and coiffed hair, smiling at him.

Gramble looked around a moment before meeting her eyes. "...Me?"

"Of course you, ya silly goose," she replied, and Gramble looked behind her at Wambus, as if to confirm this wasn't some weird prank. Wambus nodded and lifted the brim of his hat.

"Go on, now" he said, and with permission Gramble put his paw in Triffany's and allowed her to lead him onto the dance floor. He was more than okay with taking her lead, especially given the height difference. It must have looked so silly, but not any sillier than Snorpy dancing with Chandlo.

And he felt… at peace. He hadn't even noticed how Wiggle snuck out with a cigar.

"You know, if ya ever get tired of the suburbs, there's always room for one more down on the farm."

Gramble blinked, looking up at her as they moved across the dance floor, passing by Floofty and some grump they'd never seen before. They were pouting, it clearly wasn't their choice.

"You're… you're serious? I mean, you're sure?"

"Summers coming," she said, "we'll expect ya to work, of course, but the air is clean and crisp and the sauce grows as far as the eye can see, ya know. Maybe a vacation will do ya some good."

"That… that would be incredible, Triffany…" he murmured, glancing away a little bashfully, before closing his eyes and just letting the dance carry him away. It had been a while since he'd felt such peace, allowing himself to be in another grump's paws. “You know-” he said finally, “kinda weird Wambus is letting his wife dance with another man.”

“Gramble-” Triffany replied, “who’s idea do you think this was?”

“Oh…” said Gramble. “ _Oh._ ”

"Mind if I cut in?" Gramble opened his eyes to see Wambus standing there, one paw on his shoulder, the other around Triffany's back. Gramble blinked, and blushed, his cheeks puffing up as Wambus gave a good natured laugh. When did the song end…? 

He pulled back from Triffany, allowing Wambus to take his place. It looked a lot less awkward when he danced with her, and he had to admire the spectacle. When they weren't dancing to Filbo's dance radio it was actually rather elegant.

It was a sight that was easy on the eyes.

Faintly alarmed, Gramble fled to the bar. He wasn't a drinker- he ordered a flavored soda water. He liked peaches. So he sipped, ruminating on Triffany's offer. He'd never lived on a farm but he'd been to petting zoo's, mostly as a volunteer. He'd never tended to crops, but he'd watched Wambus keep the garden in Snaxburg… then again, perhaps the garden in Snaxburg might not have been the best expression of Wambus's agricultural skills.

He was a suburb grump. Maybe he would just get in their way, but on the other paw… Gramble kept looking back at them. They seemed so happy. He wanted some of that happiness.

When had it all gone to pot…? 

Departing from the reception was hard. He had managed to get through it without any major happenings, and even managed to meet up with Wambus and Triffany again before they left.

"Always a pleasure," Wambus had said, giving him a jocular slap on the back that nearly sent him over. "You ever wanna come down, the farms open to ya."

"Yeah, about that…" Gramble replied, tapping his paws together nervously. "I kinda wanna take you up on that?"

"No fooling?"

"I'm serious, Wambus," he said with a swallow. "That is, if you'll have me."

Triffany clasped her paws together. "Of _course_ we'll have you, Gramble, anytime! We'd offer to drive you but our car only has two seats."

"That's alright… I gotta think about what I wanna pack, anyhow, if I'm going to be down there a whole summer." He thought about that- a whole summer. Gosh.

Triffany grabbed him and squished his cheeks affectionately, "I just can't _wait_ to explore those ruins with you! Oh, that'll be a real hoot and a half, right Wamby?"

Wambus had his paws in his pockets, smiling at his wife's joviality. "Yep."

Truly a grump of few words. Gramble let out a mutter, and she let go of him. "Well, Wambus and I have to go pack up our hotel room so we can head out in the morning. Gotta be on the road by four am!"

"How long is the ride?"

"Seven hours."

"Oh grump."

"Goes by quick," Wambus cut in. "Bus'll take even longer. You might wanna consider a plane."

"I… I might. I kind of like driving, though."

He waved them both off, and the taxi sped off into the night, leaving him on the sidewalk to contemplate what had just transpired. What a dance had turned into.

"A whole summer…" he whispered, his stomach twisted in knots and his heart fluttering. "I can do that."


	2. The Long Road Down

Already, Snaktooth Island was fading into his past as he and the rest of the Grumpuses on Lizbert’s expedition trudged up the beach towards civilization. Sometimes Gramble would look back, peering over his shoulder down the horizon at nothing in particular, wondering how much of the island was left after the volcano went off and the snax went on their little rampage. It was probably fine. In spite of the year they had been there, the expedition seemed to make almost no dent on the island's infrastructure or ecology. After the huts deteriorated and the snax they ate reproduced, there would be no recollection that they had even been there. Except for Lizbert and Eggabell. 

And the memories.

Memories of having spent most of his time alone, the antithesis of what he’d gone there to do in the first place. Sure, he had had Wiggle, but in spite of her claimed devotion to him, he couldn’t help but notice things. Perhaps she thought he didn’t know about the late night intrusions into his barn, cooing to his kweebles and strabbys like a siren song, with intent that was all but good. Sure, he had had Filbo as his friend, but in the end when push came to shove there was little he did to stop the others from ransacking his barn when Lizbert disappeared. Well. Wambus ransacking his barn, anyway. Gramble sighed, lingering back on the beach as he watched the rest of them move forward in a way he found he yet could not. His thoughts lingered on Wambus. He supposed he could have said anything in the world about Wambus, but what he couldn’t say was that he was disingenuous. The man did not—or perhaps could not—hide anything from any grumpus, and when caught trying to steal his snax, at least he was honest about it. He was brusque, and gruff, and headstrong, and yet…

Yet against all odds, he had someone. Wambus wasn’t alone.

“Hey kid, hey kid!”

Gramble had fallen asleep waiting for the bus, and his dreams had taken a treacherous turn. They flashed him back unceremoniously to Snaktooth, back to where everything in his life had begun to change, for the worst and for the better. As it stood, he was sleepwalking in the bus stop, and had done so until he hit a wall near the bathroom, his forehead pressed up against the corner with his eyes half-open in a zoned out state, looking like some kind of horror movie extra. At the sudden shout, he was jarred back into consciousness, and he looked around groggily, taking a moment to figure out where he was. Where…  _ was _ he? He couldn’t have walked clear across town without someone waking him up, could he?

“Kid, are you okay? You want me to call someone?”

Who was this grumpus? They were older, wearing a business suit. They looked like they were on a mission, and Gramble… looked like he was terribly lost.

“Where…” he murmured, “where am I?”

“You’re waiting for the bus, kid,” said the grumpus, looking every bit exasperated as he was sympathetic. “At least I think you are, if you’re planning on sleeping here you better get your brain back in your head.”

A bus pulled up, and the grumpus gathered up some things he’d had beside him. “Anyway, good luck, with whatever you’re doing. Take some pep pills, drink some coffee.” And then they were gone.

“Bye… uh, thanks!” he called, and pulled his hat over his face bashfully. Still a strawberry hat, but lacking the titular snax’s eyes he had designed when he knitted the first prototype, based off of Sprout. Sprout. He couldn’t believe he was thinking about Sprout. “I wonder if he ever got out of his buggy ball…?” he whispered to himself, before he suddenly grew alarmed.

“Wait- where’s my stuff?”

Just what he was even  _ doing _ there hit him much like a bus would have if he’d been walking more towards the right, and he clamored back towards the middle of the bus depot where he had his suitcases- one was filled with clothes, the other his art supplies. Well, knitting and sewing. Some embroidery hoops and fabric. He’d taken up a lot of crafting projects since returning from Snaktooth. They kept him calm and sometimes even made him sleepy. He needed all the help he could get in that department. Gramble sat between them, keeping them at his sides like a small fortress, certainly small enough to vanish behind them if he needed to- and he needed to.

Slowly, he reached into the inside of his sweater vest where he had sewn a pocket. That was where he sewed most of the pockets on his clothes- kept things more private that way. He pulled out the letter, and opened it up. It was from Triffany, about their arrangement, and if he had not received it, he might have gotten cold feet.

_ Dear Gramble, _

_ I hope this letter finds you well, and in good spirits. Wambus and I are so excited that the two of us will be hosting you as our guest this summer! I hope you like hot sauce, because we have a lot of it right now. It starts growing like weeds around the end of April, when the weather gets warm. _

_ Our spare bedroom is all prepped and ready to go. Once you take the bus down from the depot in Grump Island City, it should be a straight shot down to Grumps Virginia. Enclosed is a single ticket. We live just outside of the town of Dartry- we will pick you up when you arrive. To be perfectly honest, you can’t miss the sauce fields, Wambus has been working hard. We will tell you all about it when you get here. _

_ We have a washer, so you don’t need to worry about packing too many clothes. Just bring what will be comfortable for you to wear in hot weather (so maybe not ten sweaters). Also, you are going to want to bring some things you won’t mind getting dirty, and some gloves. Wambus’s will probably be too small for you. _

_ It’s going to be so fun having you here! We will see you at the beginning of June. Call us if you have any concerns, our number is down below. _

_ With love, _

_ Triffany Lottablog and Wambus Troubleham _

He knew it was just a standard way to end a letter, but the little flourish of handwriting promising just a smidge of love at the bottom of the correspondence was enough to make him blush, just a little bit. Triffany was like that- bold and outspoken with her feelings, good and bad. To Gramble, she was even faintly intimidating, and not in any small part in the way she handled her husband. Sure, Wambus could be scary, but in the face of his wife, he’d seen the terrifying blue grumpus turn into something docile from just a few words. On Snaktooth, getting Triffany back heralded a palpable change in the tall grump- he wondered what it was like, to have someone be able to hold you together so effortlessly like that, even in the face of marital difficulties.

If it hadn’t been for that letter arriving, he might have chosen not to go. It had become apparent that they were expecting him, and in the long run, he couldn’t bring it upon himself to risk disappointing her  _ or _ Wambus. Triffany he could understand, she was too sweet, you didn’t  _ want _ to risk disappointing her, but the more he re-read that letter, the more obvious it became to  _ him _ just how much he didn’t want to risk hurting Wambus, either. He just… wanted to make everyone happy as well as he could. If he could have given himself up to save Liz and Egg…

Sighing, Gramble placed the letter back into his sweater and was beginning to wonder if he was overdressed. The weather  _ was _ getting warm, and that was in a cooler state like New Grump. Grumps Virginia was getting to be down south, and however warm it could get on Grump Island, the temperature down there would be twice as hot. He should have dressed in layers, but he supposed if he absolutely had to, he could go without a shirt totally. Filbo did, so did a bunch of grumps he knew… but he was shy, and he  _ liked _ wearing things he'd made himself. It felt like nowadays he was wearing more and more of things he'd made with his own two paws, aside from his volunteer work and helping Filbo run for mayor, he was such a homebody. 

At least he'd managed to pack some work clothes he had lying around the closet.

Within the hour the bus to Dartry, Grumps Virginia pulled up to the depot, and Gramble put aside the embroidery he was working on to climb aboard and flash his ticket. The suitcases were a hit unwieldy but the bus was not uncomfortable. The seats were plush, and it was clear that Triffany and Wambus had spared no expense to get him out there. He couldn't help but feel a little worried… did they make a lot of money? He was terrified of being a burden. Yet, as the bus drifted off down the road and the buildings of Grump Island City turned into more pastoral scenes, he found it harder and harder to focus on that. After all, he had  _ at least _ a seven hour trip ahead of him- dwelling would accomplish nothing.

Gramble did his best to occupy his time. He knitted, and embroidered, and at one point actually slept for about a half hour. The rumbling of the bus managed to sooth him a little, and he pulled his hat over his eyes to curl up in the seat, purring softly.

Wambus was right about one thing, between all of his little eccentricities the ride went by decently fast. Before he knew it they were passing by the  _ Welcome to Grumps Virginia  _ sign on the highway, and by the time they arrived at the town of Dartry, Gramble was kind of shocked.

He expected it to be totally flat, but it was surprisingly hilly. The town seemed to be surrounded by small mountains that reminded him a bit of Snaktooth in a devious way. There was also a surprising amount of trees. Wambus had a farm here?

The bus pulled into the depot, which was much smaller than the one in Grump Island City and announced the arrival, to which Gramble scrambled to grab up his things and leave. The bus moved on to greener pastures, and he was surprised that it was actually rather balmy in the town. It also wasn't as small as he'd gleaned from Wambus and Triffany. It had two schools, a post office, two restaurants, a bakery, and a farmer's market, among other things. Nobody was there yet, so he pulled himself up into a chair and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited. 

He waited until he was starting to feel paranoid. Had they… forgotten about him? It wouldn't be the first time someone did that. Quickly he pulled out the letter and opened it up; there was the phone number. He looked around until he saw the pay phones on the wall and jumped to run to them, popping in some quarters to dial their place of residence. It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

_ "Hello! You've reached the home of Triffany Lottablog-" _

_ "-and Wambus Troubleham." _

_ "We're unable to come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message we'll get back to ya faster than two shakes of a lamb's tail! Thank ya!" _

The answering machine's tone made Gramble's stomach fall. Good grump he was stranded. His expression twisted into one of fear and anger, his tiny body unable to hold all the emotion threatening to erupt from his chest. Slowly, he hung up the phone, and felt as though he was going to burst into tears, before…

"GRAMBLE!"

His eyes flew open, blinking rapidly as he turned his head towards the voice. Triffany was waving at him as she rushed into the depot, hatless and covered in feathers.

"Oh gosh, I am SO sorry I'm so late! A stray dog got into the chicken coop and we had to chase it out but then the birds went outta their minds and- Gramble? Are you okay, honey?"

Gramble was staring as he listened, and he reached up to feel his cheek. Oh grump, so he  _ had  _ started crying. He was hoping against hope he'd be able to control himself, but the fear had been too much for him. Still, he tried to save face even a little, and cracked a small smile.

"It's okay," he said, looking around. "Where's Wambus?"

"Back at the farm, cleaning up the mess," she explained with a smile. "Plus our car only has two seats, ya know."

He remembered, nodding, and gently reached up to pull an errant feather out of her hair. One of quite a few. When she saw it, a laugh bubbled out of her. It sounded like music.

"Come on, ya must be exhausted."

"I slept a little."

"Hungry, then."

"...I could eat."

It was a nice ride through town, and further out I to the countryside around it, until they were going down a dirt road surrounded by fields. Gramble watched out the window, taking it all in. Besides Snaktooth, he'd never seen so many plants… but not a lot of places  _ could  _ hold a candle to Snaktooh. The Lottablog/Troubleham residence ended up being a one-level house residing on a farm of about thirty acres, Triffany explained, situated at the base of a hilly forest- and she was right about the sauce fields. They stretched out in all directions, blooming brightly- almost wildly- partially segregated by types of sauce. It smelled savory and sweet all at once and nearly intoxicating. It did more than cover up the scent of the animals farther out on the property.

"Holy moley…" Gramble said as they pulled up to the garage, yanking his suitcases out of the back of the hatchback, his eyes like saucers. Triffany leaned against the car and let out another musical laugh.

"You should see it when it's dark," she said, "oh! I suppose you will! Come on in, Wambus will be back this evening. In the meantime I've got a little something for ya."

Good grump, anymore surprises and his heart might give out.

The inside of the house was quaint. Everything was made of wood, and the high ceiling revealed the aesthetically exposed beams. There was a television but it obviously didn't get much use, judging by the layer of dust on it, but the bookshelf in the den was well loved. 

"This place is a palace…" he mumbled, awestruck.

"What's that now?" Triffany replied, rooting around in the kitchen, which had a tile backdrop.

"Nothing!" He exclaimed, dropping his suitcases to follow her wherever she was willing to take him. The kitchen was filled with the scent of fruit as Triffany laid out the plate of apple fritters, and Gramble thought he just might die from the sight.

"Go on, they're not gonna eat themselves! Made 'em this morning."

He took one reverently, and took a wide bite. Triffany's brow furrowed. "Gramble?"

Oh grump. He was crying again- but these were good tears, and he took another bite with a wide smile.

"It's delicious."

She put up some tea, and the two got to talking. Gramble was on his second fritter by the time she placed the reddish liquid before him. 

"Nowadays we try to make as much of our stuff ourselves as we can," she explained. "Bread, pasta, meat… we do pick up fresh veggies in town, though. Trade sauce for them. It's a nice life here. I teach online classes now, yanno, but classes are out, for the summer."

Gramble listened in rapt attention, absorbing everything he could about their lives. As he did he ate, and drank, and Triffany chuckled at his voraciousness.

"...Sorry," he said, "it's just really good."

"Think nothing of it," she said with a broad grin. "I do tell ya though, I'm real excited to explore those ruins with ya."

Gramble swallowed. "The haunted ones?" He asked shyly.

"They're  _ not  _ haunted, hon, that's just a story," she said, waving a paw. "It just looks that way from the outside- but  _ something  _ happened there. I've been researching the area but all the books are so vague. I've only been there once, and it was by myself. Having a partner with me will open up new observations from new perspectives!"

"What about Wambus?"

"He's just so  _ busy _ ," she said, only a little exasperatedly. "We've never had a farm this big, and it doesn't run itself. That's one of the reasons we're glad you're here, actually. His back ain't what it used to be, yanno."

Gramble nodded. It couldn't have been at all easy. He mumbled something under his breath, clutching the teacup tightly. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. Triffany decided to let it lie. Instead she stood up and gestured with her head out the door.

"Come on, now, I'll show ya your room!" 

It was just as nice as the rest of the house; painted a nice cream colour with a cozy looking bed on the far side. There were photos of Triffany and Wambus on the walls, and they made her sigh. "I thought I told him to move these into the master bedroom…"

"It's okay, I don't mind seeing them," Gramble replied. "They're sweet."

" _ You're _ sweet." Gramble's fur stood a bit on end at her words, his cheeks rosy from it. "Take your time getting used to the place, unpack, unwind. I'll be in the study lookin' over my notes if ya need me. Just holler if ya do!"

"I will!" 

"And Gramble?" She said, one foot out the door with a smile. "It's a treat to have ya."

Luckily, she left before she could see him clutching his chest, his heart palpitating ferociously. He sat down on the bed, and looked out at the photographs. He couldn't blame Wambus for leaving them up; not when they depicted such happy times. Gramble… had no photos left of his family. They'd taken them all when they'd left. The memory was making the tears spring up all over again, especially in the face of such overwhelming hospitality.

He had to repay them. Just a little bit.

While he unpacked and made the room his own, he contemplated. Then, an idea sprung to him, and he slowly inched his way out to look for Triffany. He used the keyholes in the doors- he found the master bedroom, the bathroom, and the study, where Triffany was currently working feverishly at her desk, writing and flipping through library books. Though he didn't mean to, he ended up watching her, just a little while. Not in a creepy way, no! Just… in a friendly way.

Not a longing way.

Well. With her busy and him unwilling to bother her, he moved silently through the house, until he made his way back to the kitchen. Maybe it was a breach of privacy to rummage, but in the end, making them something was the least he could do.

As the sun went down and the gentle wafting fireflies of the summer became the only illumination besides a single warm porchlight, the house became filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and rosemary. It was enough to draw even Triffany from her manuscripts, her nostrils flaring.

"Wambus?" She murmured, yawning a little as she maneuvered through the house and checking the time. "Oh goodness, it's late…"

When she arrived in the kitchen she met a lovely sight. Gramble was there, placing down three plates with care around two flat, but thick, loaves of bread. They were baked with herbs and vegetables artfully arranged atop them, with a delicately crispy crust all around, and glistening with oil. It resembled pizza, and Triffany's nose wrinkled cutely at the aroma.

"Gramble, what is all this?" She said with delight in her voice. The pink grumpus smiled.

"You've both been so nice to me I wanted to return the favor and, I mean. I cook my own food a lot because I don't eat meat."

"It's gorgeous, hon," she replied, and Gramble positively beamed. "It's been forever since I've had pizza."

"Actually, it's-" he said, but was interrupted by the sound of a door closing on the other end of the house, and Wambus finally appeared. His fur mussed and he was wearing a pair of overalls, fanning himself with his hat. He looked like hell, obviously from wrangling animals all day, but he still carried with him an air of dignity despite his haggard state. Yet when he saw Triffany he broke into a grin, and bent down to kiss her, and she lifted herself up to reciprocate the motion. Gramble glanced away, tapping his paws together.

"Triffy," said Wambus adoringly before he glanced into the kitchen, "oh! Gramble's here!"

He nodded towards the smaller grumpus, who looked back at him with a small, bashful grin. "Isn't this sweet, Wamby, he made us dinner!"

"Looks good," said Wambus, appreciatively. "Pizza?"

"It's  _ focaccia, _ " Gramble replied, finishing his thought. Wambus raised his brow.

"It's what now?"

" _ Focaccia, _ " he repeated, blushing. "I mean it's  _ like _ pizza… just… fancier."

Wambus looked down at the sublime creation before him, and then looked down at himself. He looked like he'd been rolling around in a chicken coop all day (because he had been, damn dogs), and his cheeks puffed up considerably.

"'Scuse me," he said, and stepped away from the two of them, leaving abruptly. Gramble clutched his chest.

"I- I-" he stammered, but Triffany placed a paw on his shoulder reassuringly. 

"It's a bit fancy for him," she said, smiling knowingly. 

"I didn't mean to embarrass him!" Gramble exclaimed.

"Think nothing of it, he'll wash up and come down when he's ready. Now let's make the night  _ really _ special!"

Triffany went to a cabinet on the wall and popped it open, pulling out a bottle of sparkling wine she had been saving for a special occasion. Gramble smiled, and held up a paw. "That's fine, I don't drink."

"If you say so!" She said as she poured, the effervescence adding an allure to the table, "juice okay?"

"Y-yeah, that's lovely."

The two waited for Wambus, who luckily didn't take  _ too _ long. He recognized the importance of a hot meal that wasn't scurrying around saying its own name. "Alright, I'm here."

The tall, blue grumpus had cleaned up nicely. For one thing he wasn't wearing that stupid hat, and Gramble could see the almost shaggy hair of his that he'd combed back carefully. He wore a dark green vest, looking like a college professor more than a farmer, and Gramble ended up staring at him, flashing back to the wedding when he'd seen him in that suit, and felt the fur bristling on his face nervously. 

Triffany whistled appreciatively. "Aren't  _ you  _ a tall glass of water in that get up." 

Wambus grabbed for his glass and drained it, his fur faintly puffed. "I mean, I didn't know it was a fancy occasion."

"It's not!" Gramble exclaimed, Triffany let out a hoot.

"It is _ now _ ," she protested. Gramble clammed up, and slowly sat down across from the couple, watching as Triffany eyeballed her husband conspicuously. "Now cut into that thing, I'm starving!"

Gramble slowly smiled, relaxing a tad as he took up the knife and sliced into the bread.

"So what makes this different from pizza?" Wambus asked, watching as Gramble divided it up.

"It's got more yeast in it so it raises higher," he explained.

"I usually don't eat things I can't spell," the tall grumpus admitted. That changed that night, because he ate four slices. Gramble simply watched, laughing when they laughed. The whole time he was blushing profusely, but if they noticed, they didn't call attention.

"So, why aren't you a chef?" Wambus asked, well into his third glass of wine. "Seems like a waste of talent."

Gramble looked down at his plate, still red faced. "It's just a hobby of mine, nothing special."

"Grump shit, this is delicious."

"He's right, it's good."

"Thank you," he murmured, smiling to himself. "Maybe I can do it more often? Make dinner, I mean, long as you don't mind not eating meat."

Wambus and Triffany exchanged glances, before sharing mutual grins. "Sounds like a party!" She exclaimed. 

"Never had a live-in cook," Wambus mused, "am I gonna have to get more fancy more often?"

"I mean," Gramble said without thinking, "I wouldn't mind."

He slapped a paw over his mouth, and Triffany laughed, reaching up to comb her claws through Wambus's hair. 

"Can I pick 'em, or can I?" She quipped.

The blue grumpus chuckled deeply. Gramble thought he should have been mortified, but in the wake of such a nice time, he found it impossible.

Later on, with the wine done and the focaccia devoured, they stood up a bit later to discuss various things around the table. Research, sauce, animal husbandry, ruins… and at one point, knitting.

"My paws are too unwieldy for that kinda stuff," Wambus said. Gramble smiled, sipping his juice.

"It's easy," he said, "I can teach you."

"Might take you up on that."

"What, really?"

"Yep."

By the time the evening came to a close and the late night fell upon them like a curtain, Gramble found himself sleepy, and actually had to excuse himself with a stretch.

"Better head to bed, you'll be up early tomorrow."

"How early?"

"How's dawn sound?" said Wambus with a smirk. Gramble's eyes widened, and he wished them both a good evening before scurrying off quickly to his room. At the sound of the door slamming, Triffany snickered.

"Don't torment the man," she said, placing a paw on Wambus's. She gave him a warm, almost mischievous smile.

"Whatcha thinking?" He asked. 

"Thinkin' how nice that vest will look on the floor."

Wambus paused, and rested his chin in his paw, flashing his teeth to her in a terribly eager way.

"Go on.." he purred.


	3. The Sun Rises, The Sun Sets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains not-quite depictions of sex. Starts getting saucy.

“You remember the safeword, Wamby?”

“If I said I didn’t, would you hold it against me?”

Triffany rolled her eyes at her husband’s shenanigans, winding the rope around his wrists delicately. Wambus purred, closing his eyes and testing the bonds. Nothing giving. “‘Course I remember it. Just having a laugh.”

“Bad grumps don’t get rewarded, Troubleham.”

“...How do you want it?” he asked, as his face passed close to hers, his lips and teeth narrowly finding purchase before she chuckled- low and soft. Her paws ran up his chest, through the warm blue fur, dragging her claws across his body clear through to the skin. Wambus trembled, a huff escaping him- impatient and needy.

“First fast… then slow…” Triffany ordered, her arms wrapping around his head to guide him downwards.

“Yes, Triffy.”

* * *

That night Gramble slept better than he had since he arrived home from Snaktooth. Even sharing a bed with Wiggle had not been so nice, curled up in the soft, warm blankets. Of course, sharing a bed with Wiggle was a tumultuous affair, sometimes. She was respectful of his wishes, but he could always sense an air of disappointment about her when he rebuffed her attempts at intimacy again and again. She was understanding, but he could tell it bugged her. Maybe she thought it was her fault, Gramble didn’t know. All he knew was that he was far too nervous to instigate anything himself, and far too embarrassed to let Wiggle do what  _ she _ wanted to  _ him _ .

He had always been nervous about sex. The fact remained that he had never had any, as well. Well. He doubted he’d be getting up to any of that, here, and put it out of his mind.

When he emerged from his room the sun was just peeking over the horizon, illuminating the sky in lush oranges and purples. The only time he ever was privy to the sunrise was when he hadn’t slept the night before. Being lucid enough to stand by his window and watch the way the sun rose in scant inches moment by moment was truly astounding, especially out in the middle of nowhere, where the air was clean and there were no buildings to block the skyline. Only trees and hills, and sauce.

Down in the kitchen, Wambus was seated, wearing one of his flannels and his straw hat. He was pouring over a newspaper, and having a mug of coffee when Gramble appeared, and gave a little cough to get his attention. Wambus startled, lips faintly pursed in surprise. “...You know,” he began, “when I said dawn I was mostly joking.”

Gramble opened his mouth, but felt a blush rise to his cheeks, glancing around nervously before he took a deep breath, and let it go. Well. He was already up. “That’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anymore even if I wanted to. Too excited.” He grinned broadly, inwardly delighting a little at Wambus’s confusion. “Where’s Triffany?”

“Triffy’s still sleeping,” he said, his bemused expression giving away to one of delight as he sipped his coffee, black. “We had a busy night.”

“Must have been some fascinating research,” Gramble replied.

“...Yeah, research. Fascinating.” He waved his paw, “take your gloves off and have breakfast.”

“Okay! Um, where do you keep the tea?”

Gramble ended up sharing the rest of the apple fritters with Wambus as they talked over their food. Wambus took his coffee black as pitch, and Gramble made himself a mug of steaming red tea. “Triffany usually only gets up this early when we’re doing crop rotation. Need all hands on deck for it.”

“What’s that?”

“Movin’ sauce around to diversify the plots. Keeps pests at bay.”

“How come you never did that on Snaktooth?” He slammed a paw over his mouth, shocked at himself for even thinking to bring up the expedition, let alone regarding such a sensitive subject. Oh grump, he was dead.

Well, not dead. Wambus just scoffed, “‘Cause a bunger doesn't care how you arrange your crops, they’ll still mess with your ketchup. They’re smarter than that.”

“I mean I know  _ some _ snax can be trained… bungers always seemed a little dopey to me, personally.”

“You callin’ me stupid?”

_ Grumping christ, what had he done? _

Wambus was glowering at him, clutching his mug tightly, and Gramble began to calculate, based on the car ride there, how far and fast he would have to run to reach town and successfully evade him. He opened his mouth to apologize, or try and justify himself before the taller grump let out a laugh, and Gramble thought he would fall apart from nerves.

“I was an idiot on Snaktooth, it’s a miracle I grew anything at all. Still, you gotta admit, it’s difficult to do much of anything with a whole, literal island fightin’ against you. I did my best. Things are better now.” He brought the mug to his mouth, before blinking, and raising an eyebrow. “Don’t cry, Gigglefunny.”

Gramble looked pale. He wasn’t going to cry, he told himself, even if for a moment had he been terrified. He’d insulted his host, that wasn’t cool. His relief was palpable when Wambus seemed to take it well, and he slugged down the rest of his tea quickly, as if to prevent himself from saying anything else incriminating. When the fritters were gone and the mugs were empty, Wambus adjusted his hat and motioned for Gramble to pick up his gloves. “Come on, i’ll show ya around.”

The sun was further up now, enough to see the differences between the sauce as Wambus led him through the paths between the fields. Gramble couldn’t help but be faintly awed. So early in the season, and some of the flowering plants were already bigger than he was. Then again, it didn’t take much growing for something to become bigger than he was. He ended up leaning in closer to one that was about his size, admiring the iridescent purple blossoms and bottle-shaped fruit. 

“Damn things grow like weeds out here; doesn’t even matter what variation they are. If there’s soil, sauce seems to grow, mostly. Weirdly enough I still haven’t figured out what makes which sauce grow better in which climate, besides the obvious. Peanut butter likes it where it’s cold, but ketchup seems to grow anywhere. I have a degree in agricultural studies, and even I don’t know. That’s Snaktooth foliage, for ya.”

Gramble was still examining the flower, noticing how it smelled. Faintly spicy, like ginger and turmeric, and Wambus reached down a paw to tug a fruit free, and toss it to Gramble. “Try it, you can’t beat fresh picked.”

Back on Snaktooth, Gramble didn’t eat much sauce, because he hated the idea of interacting with Wambus. He often made his own food out of what he could scavenge, usually random plants, mushrooms, and cattails. Oftentimes, Gramble would go out into national parks near his home, where spraying pesticides was illegal, and forage for his food, and the island was no exception. Eggabell helped, and a combination of his knowledge and her expertise kept him alive (mostly, there were a few times he was struck down with food poisoning) without having to mooch off of Wambus- but things were different now. Giving him one final look, as if to gauge whether it was okay to do so, Gramble bit into the sauce fruit. The flesh was soft and tight, similar to a plastic bottle, as it appeared, but with enough give in the flesh to burst when it got into his mouth. The ‘cap’ was supple and edible. He had a brief moment of enjoyment, savoring the flavor and warmth on his tongue before he blinked, and his fur bristled painfully.

“Erm?” he murmured, before looking up at Wambus with his pupils contracted, a horrified expression in his eyes. “HRM!?”

Wambus blinked, and glanced over at the plant as Gramble began to breathe rapidly through his nose. “Ah, hot sauce.”

Gramble dropped the plant, opening his mouth and fanning it quickly. The sticky sauce coated the inside of his mouth, clinging to his tongue as he attempted to alleviate the pain, and Wambus grabbed him by the arm, leading him out of the field and into a clearing towards the ranch area, where a water pump sat. “Here, lemme get you a bowl or somethi-”

He was a bit too late in that department, as Gramble rushed forward in his zeal to rid himself of the heat, shoved his head under the spout, and grabbed the handle to pump furiously. Water immediately burst forth, filling his mouth and flushing out the orange sauce and remnants of the strange flesh of the fruit, and Wambus watched in a state of shock as Gramble practically drowned himself to be rid of the taste. When the pink grumpus pulled himself up from beneath the pump he was shaking a little, and shaking his head, taking off his hat to pat against his face gently, to sop up some of the water. The tuft of pink hair on his head was faintly mussed from it, and he breathed heavily to rid himself of the insidious flavor. It was just his good fortune that it wasn’t chilly- the warmth of the climate made the motion actually somewhat nice, aside from being soaking wet. He placed his paws on his knees, and shook his head, and Wambus just placed his paws on his hips with a small smile as he reached down to grab up a piece of errant wheat at the base of his plants, and chewed on it thoughtfully.

“Happened to me the first time I bit into a Grumplina Reaper on a dare.”

“What in the grump is that?”

“World’s hottest pepper. Couldn’t taste nothin’ for a week.” He passed Gramble a piece of wheat, and he took it gently. “Chew on this, get your mind off of it.”

Gramble watched as Wambus let the piece of wheat hang out of his mouth, and did the same thing, chewing on the end as he put the wet hat back on his head, and Wambus snatched it off. Gramble stammered a little.

“Don’t put wet clothes on your head, you wanna catch something? I’ll hang it up.”

A quick trip to the clothesline later and the two of them were back to exploring the field. Wambus showed him a bunch of things- how to pull up weeds, how to spread straw and wheat around the base of a plant to mulch it, and how to work the irrigation system. 

“This here’s a drip irrigation system,” he pointed out, gesturing to the hoses that were running through the fields between the rows. “Don’t need a huge sprinkler system, since i’m only usin’ about fifteen acres for growing the sauces, so this saves energy.”

“How’d you end up wanting to become a farmer, anyhow?” Gramble asked, yanking a weed out of the ground that was threatening to wrap around one of the hoses. Wambus tilted his hat up thoughtfully.

“Grew up on one, a farm,” he explained. “Lots of family, all of us worked the land since we were very small. I remember my first hoe, and dragging buckets of water to the field to water the strawberries. It didn’t  _ need _ it, but it sure made me feel important.”

Jealousy welled up in Gramble as he listened to him talk about his big family, where there was no doubt plenty of love to go around. It made him wonder how someone with such a nice upbringing could grow up so brusque.

“Weirdly enough, I never seemed to have the knack for growing things on my own,” he said, folding his arms with a shrug. “My garden was never as nice as my siblings, my cucumbers were never as long and my squash were never as big. Made goin’ to the county fair a little embarrassing.”

“I’ve never been to a county fair,” Gramble confessed. 

“Best thing about it is the fried food,” Wambus pointed out, “after the produce exhibition, I mean. So I decided to go to college instead of help my siblings take over the family farm. Set off on my own.”

“But you still ended up a farmer?” Gramble replied.

“Well, I  _ went _ for agricultural studies,” he pointed out. “Actually, that’s where I met Triffy.”

Gramble was faintly shocked to hear that Wambus had gone to college. He hardly seemed like the college type in his eyes at first, but then he realized that was horrendously short-sighted of him, so he swallowed instead, and said, “what was she studying?”

“Archeology with a minor in forensic anthropology,” he answered. “Even back then, her passion was picking at bones. One day, my  edaphology class went on a three day trip to study the soil specimens near a body farm, and that’s where I really got a chance to talk to her.”

Gramble had so many questions. “Okay, first things first, edaphology is…?”

“Study of how living things interact with soil.”

“And a…  _ body farm _ is…?”

“What do you think it is?” Wambus replied, smirking at him.

“A place where they study bodies.”

“Hit the nail on the head, Gigglefunny,” he said, “Triffy was up to her waist, digging around a half-decomposed grumpus corpse, and I cleared my throat, held out my little specimen cup and said, ‘’scuse me, miss, can I borrow a cup of dirt?’”

Gramble couldn’t help it, he laughed, doubling over as if it had been the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Wambus chuckled himself. “Yeah, that was her reaction, too. We moved on from there, talkin’, sharing research. We were always trying to outdo each other, but she always won. Once you start bringing grumpus skulls into the equation, you’re bound to come out on top.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Around the third day we started sneakin’ away from our classmates and just… talking,” he said, adjusting his hat faintly. “Tell ya a secret?”

“Sure,” Gramble replied. 

“Not quite sure what a girl like her saw in a lug like me.”

Gramble couldn’t help but find it… sweet. Like something like fate had brought them together. “What happened after the trip?”

“Well,” Wambus began, staring off into space as if reliving the time. “ I dropped out when I couldn’t pay for it anymore, and Triffy graduated with honors. She offered to bring me on a trip with her to a dig site in Grump Mexico as her ‘assistant’, but after a while of spending time together we startin’ gettin’ a little… distracted.”

“Distracted?”

“With each other.”

Gramble smiled, curiously, “how do you get distracted on a dig site?”

Wambus smirked, “you gonna make me say it?”

It took Gramble a moment, before the fur on his cheeks puffed up, brightening red. “... _ Oh. _ ”

“Yeah,” Wambus said with a hearty chuckle, “Triffy’s got  _ needs _ , but that’s enough of  _ that _ talk. Back to pullin’ weeds. Save the dandelions.”

That statement distracted Gramble for the entire rest of the trip.  _ Triffy’s got needs.  _ He thought of a sweet woman like Triffany, how she always stuck up for grumps and acted as a comfort to him, and invited him into their home… and maybe it was just his own saccharine lifestyle, but he simply could not picture her having an appetite that voracious. The very idea made him chew on his lower lip, thoughts running at a rapid pace. He ended up busying himself with the sauce flowers, noticing how some of them had yet to bloom fruit, and ended up picking some idly, and wrapping them together with a piece of straw. “Whatcha up to?” Wambus asked, leaning over him, looming far enough to block him out with his shadow.

“...Makin’ a bouquet,” he said softly, and held the blue flowers up to Wambus, hoping he wouldn’t irritate him. “Just… since they weren’t fruiting yet and you’ve got so many here, I thought maybe it’ll look nice… you know, on the kitchen table or something.” Okay, that was a lie. He thought about how it would look in Triffany’s arms, and something nagging inside him told him that Wambus suspected as much.

“...That is cute,” he said after a while, gesturing with his head. “Triffy’s gonna love that. Come with me, i’ll show you the chocolate sauce. The blooms are real nice on those this time of year.”

In the end, Wambus offered valuable floral input. The combination of sauce flowers made for a sweet bouquet, tied up delicately with draw and pieces of wheat, until it formed a cohesive sculpture. He ended up taking one of the hot sauce flowers and tucked it into the weave of his hat, while Gramble was busy weaving the flowers together, until they formed a crown, and he sat it upon his head. “...Teach me how to do that.”

“What?” he asked. 

“That,” Wambus said, gesturing with his free paw, “the flower hat. Teach me how to make it.”

“Oh! It’s easy,” Gramble said, going and picking a group of flowers. He handed them to Wambus, and walked him through how to do it, watching his paws slowly and gently curl the stems together, under his supervision, and tightening them gently until they formed a round wreath. “Like that, see?”

Wambus gazed down at Gramble, expressionless, though his arms were filled with flowers. The smaller grumpus swallowed. He knew weaving flowers wasn’t the manliest of hobbies, especially compared to someone like Wambus, but he’d  _ asked _ after all.

“Ain’t that the second prettiest thing i’ve seen today,” murmured the blue grumpus. Gramble chewed on the piece of wheat in his mouth, and smiled gently, still just a tad nervous. A year ago, showing any kind of vulnerability around Wambus would have been unthinkable, but now…

Things were different.

“Let’s get these back to the house,” Wambus said, turning to walk ahead of him, back up the path. Gramble turned to follow quickly, quick as his short legs would carry him. It was getting into the afternoon, and Triffany was taking a break from work to do some light reading on the porch (for whatever measure of light a book with six hundred pages on the history of Grumpdinavia could be) while they approached. She didn’t even notice them at first, as engrossed in her book as she was, until Wambus took the crown Gramble was still holding, and placed it upon her head. She blinked, jarred back into reality, and lifted a paw to poke at the sudden adornment. 

“Wambus!” she exclaimed, “that’s beautiful! Where’d you learn to do that?”

Wambus smiled broadly, flicking his eyes towards Gramble. “He taught me.”

Gramble rubbed his arm bashfully, looking anywhere but at Triffany’s beaming expression.

“Don’t that beat all?” she said, closing her book and holding it aloft. “You boys look like you’ve had a nice time. You wanna come in and wash up for lunch? I made a quiche.”

With Gramble’s food preference in mind, Triffany was doing her best to adapt to cooking without meat. It was a little difficult, after all her and Wambus had an affinity for it, but the sight of Gramble’s overjoyed expression when he bit into the savory pie acted as a big motivator. “This  _ is _ a special meal, as well. I got something to show ya both.”

She quickly left the table, but when she returned, Gramble choked a little. She was holding aloft a skeletal paw, pointing at it as if it were the most valuable thing in the world. Wambus kept eating, impressed, but unfazed. 

“I found this in the woods! I think it might be remnant from that lost colony!” she said, “This means that there IS the possibility that something horrible DID happen that wiped out the colony, and that they didn’t simply pack up and move! The implications are haunting, doncha think?” 

She kept using that word, and it kept putting Gramble on edge. Again, Wambus seemed unfazed, even as he took the paw bones from her to turn over thoughtfully. Since Snaktooth, he had made it his business to become more invested in his wife’s work, when he could spare the opportunity. Things were busy, but he was trying his best.

“Fascinatin’,” he said.

“I  _ know! _ ” she said, clasping her paws together, her eyes wide and excited. “It really is something!”

“ _ You _ really are something,” Wambus replied, and Triffany responded by rolling her eyes a little, before pulling off his hat and kissing the crown of his head without warning. He laughed, and Gramble watched them flirt shamelessly, stabbing idly at his quiche. On one paw, his envy was palpable. On the other, it was nice to watch. A treat, in and of itself. After lunch, he sunk himself down into a chair in his room, his back bothering him from his first day of working around the farm, and he wondered just how much of these he’d be getting up to throughout the summer. Luckily he still had it in him to grab up his latest knitting project and continue it from where he had started on the bus. A knock came from the door, and Triffany entered with something wrapped in a towel.

“Hey hon,” she said, holding it up, “brought you an ice pack, in case your back was botherin’ ya.”

As a matter of fact, it kind of was. He nodded and accepted it, placing it just below his collar where it was the most knotted. “Thank you, Triff.”

“No biggie, hon,” she said. She was still wearing her flower crown. 

“How does Wambus do this every day at his age?” he asked. 

“He’s used to it, he’s been doin’ it since he was a tot. I had the same trouble you did when I first started helping him on the farm. You know what really helped? A nice massage.”

“Thanks,” he said nervously, hoping he wasn’t about to offend, “but i’ll pass.”

“Well if you change your mind, i’ll let Wamby know.”

Gramble felt himself blush, the notion of Wambus putting his paws on him like that enough to make butterflies erupt in his stomach. He swallowed, and hoped Triffany didn’t see.

“Or I can do it for ya, if you want. All ya gotta do is ask. See you later tonight!” He waited until she was gone to cover his face with his paws and curl up in the chair, consumed with the idea of either of them working the pain out of his body in such a way. It was… a nice thought, but  _ not _ a nice thought at the same time. Oh grump. He decided to move to the bed, hugging the ice pack as he dragged himself into it, and tried to find a small nap.

Meanwhile, back in their bedroom, Wambus was sitting that flower from his hat into his hair, combing it back gently. He was startled when Triffany appeared silently, placing her paws on his shoulders. “Very handsome.”

“Don’t look silly?” Wambus asked.

“Of course not.” A beat passed between them, and Triffany said, “I know, I like him too.”

Wambus stared at them in the mirror a moment before nodding. “He’s so nervous. I wanna help him.”

“I do, too. I think he’s afraid,” Triffany replied, flashing back to the sight of him at the bus depot, when it looked as though he was worried they’d forgotten about him. The way he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

“Afraid of what, though?” Wambus asked, his own memories of the nervous grump surfacing in his mind. However, unlike Triffany, he had seen Gramble at the end of his rope- heard how viscous his barbs could be

“That we’re gonna abandon him.”

“Where are we gonna go, it’s our farm.”

“Oh Wamby,” Triffany said, “don’t be so dense.”

Night fell, and Gramble didn’t mean to sleep that deeply. He supposed that’s what he sowed, taking a late afternoon nap, but he still managed to drag himself up to have dinner with Triff and Wambus. It was nice, but he was still full from lunch, and still a little on edge from his treacherous thoughts regarding the two, so he didn’t eat much. He was about to retreat back to his bedroom, work further on his project, when Triffany reached down to place a paw on his shoulder, and lead him out onto the porch. Standing there was Wambus, tossing a glass jar up and down in the air, and Gramble looked on, puzzled, but with a smile.

“What’s all this?” he questioned. 

“Watch this,” Wambus said, and stomped out into the field to stick his paw into a brush of ranch dressing, giving it a firm shake. Suddenly, what must have been hundreds of fireflies erupted from the plants, and Gramble was stuck, staring with his eyes wide open as Wambus scooped a jar-full out of the air, and screwed the lid on tight. Triffany turned off the porchlight, and it allowed the fireflies to better illuminate the property, Wambus’ makeshift little lantern casting dancing shadows over Gramble’s face as he brought it close, and placed it in his paws.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, “I feel… kinda bad for the bugs, though.”

“Aw, they’ll be fine, long as you let them out,” Wambus said, and before he could say anything else Gramble was grabbing the lid and twisting it off. The insects immediately fluttered out, brightening and dimming, and landing on him to glow faintly. “Now why’d you go and do that?”

“Animals don’t deserve to be cooped up,” Gramble said, suddenly a bit defensive. Wambus blinked, and nodded a little.

“Same ol’ Gramble.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I'm not,” he replied, glancing down at the now empty jar, the three of them flanked on all sides by fireflies. “But I do know one thing-  _ I  _ don’t like being trapped.”

They went back inside as the air began to turn chilly, and Gramble brushed himself off. “L-Look, i’m gonna go take a shower, okay? I’ll be in the bathroom… you know, if you need me.” He scurried off, and in the kitchen, Wambus was pouring himself a whiskey, and Triffany placed her paws on his shoulders. 

“Been a while since i’ve seen you so gentle outside the bedroom,” she said with a coy smile. Wambus shot down the drink and glanced back up at her, a low, rumbling purr escaping.

“Issat so?” he replied, “don’t get used to it. I’m a real bastard and you know it.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Triffany said, leaning down to her let paws run over his chest, and pressing her forehead against his temple. “You flirt.”

“You know me, I don’t lie, Triffy,” he murmured, tilting his head to nuzzle across her face. “I thought that’s why you liked me so much.”

“I like a lot of things about you, Wambus.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, and reached up to cup the back of her head, placing a kiss on her lips. Gentle at first, but growing more and more heated as the moment went on. He ended up rising from the chair, and moving forward enough to sandwich her body between his own and the fridge, his paws lingering on her hips as he ached for a taste.

“Oh, Wamby~” she cooed, “don’t you wanna ask  _ permission _ first?”

“Oh, come on, Triff,” he mumbled, “don’t do me dirty, like this…”

“ _ Wambus _ ,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck as her voice took on a lilting, demanding tone. 

“ _ Please.” _

“That’s my boy.”

* * *

After his shower, Gramble lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with the blankets up to his chin, his heart slamming against his ribs. This was preposterous, he was no homewrecker. He didn’t even have it  _ in _ him to crush on another man’s wife.

Or another wife’s man.

It was unthinkable. It was exhausting.

It put him right to sleep.


	4. Windows

That morning, Wambus awoke his wife by fluttering kisses upon her face. Triffany mumbled a little, reaching out to grab his paw in a gentle squeeze, inching up his arm to admire his bicep.

“Not this morning, Wamby,” she murmured. 

“I figured,” he said, before pressing his forehead against hers. “Just thinking about last night, is all.”

Triffany still had a mess of bed head, and Wambus still had a little bruise on his neck, just barely visible from beneath his dark blue fur. She smiled up at him from her cocoon of blankets. “I’ll get up,” she said, stretching out beneath them, where a pop could be heard. “Oh!”

“You alright?”

“Slept weird, no big deal- actually it feels better,” she sat up and rolled her neck before sliding out of the bed and beginning to put on her explorer’s vest, the kind she wore all the time on Snaktooth.

Wambus was putting on his own attire when his nose wrinkled, and he looked at the clock. Seven AM. “You smell something?”

Triffany lifted her head. “...Smells like Gramble’s got breakfast going.”

“That little grump is gonna spoil us.”

“Gonna?” Triffany joked with a little smile.

Wambus chuckled faintly. “Should I be worried?”

“About Gramble?” Triffany exclaimed, buttoning up her vest and topping the outfit off with her hat. “Why?”

“He’s younger, he’s sweeter, and he’s a better cook,” he replied, teasing. Triffany wrapped her arms around his chest from behind, nuzzling over his throat happily.

“I know you’re kidding,” she said firmly, “but don’t even  _ imply _ what I think you’re implying.”

“Yes, Triffy.”

“I mean it.”

“Yes, Triffy.”

“Do I have to convince you otherwise?”

Wambus swallowed, his lips breaking into a goofy grin. “If you like, Triffy.”

“But not now.”

“Nope.”

“‘Cause I think I smell pancakes!”

* * *

Gramble did not sleep much that night. He had far too much on his mind. Truly, being there was doing nothing but good for him- they were right about the clean air and environment, and aside from the incident with the hot sauce, it was a perfectly nice farm. He still hadn’t actually seen any animals except from a distance- so he was eager to get to help Wambus with them. At the moment, he was flipping a big, fluffy pancake in the cast iron skillet he’d found, while a plate of them sat to his left with a warm towel over the stack, to keep them hot. The sound of chairs alerted him as he turned around, witnessing Triffany and Wambus taking their seats in front of a pair of steaming mugs of coffee. Perhaps it was a little much, but he just wanted to do right by his hosts…

Wambus took an appreciative sip, while Triffany stood up to retrieve some milk and sugar for her own. Gramble realized he should have realized, she was too sweet to take it black.

“I couldn’t find any fruit, and I thought chocolate might be too rich for breakfast so, uh, I hope you just like buttermilk pancakes,” he said. A paw ruffled his hair, and Triffany sat back down before he could say anything about it. His hat was still hanging up on the clothesline, exposing his fluffy hair; a bit rosier than the rest of his fur, a bit like the gradient on his legs. By the time they were all sitting, Gramble was trying to quell the blush in his cheeks, occasionally patting the fur down when he thought they weren’t paying attention. Triffany and Wambus mostly talked amongst themselves, about harvest and processing.

Gramble was only drawn out of his distraction when Triffany said, “I hope you’re ready, ‘cause today’s the day we’re going out into those ruins! Just you and me, Gramble!”

He blinked, surprised, and looked up at her. “What? Today?”

“Yes, today! Silly goose!”

He tapped his paws together, looking a bit bashful. He hated the idea of turning Triffany down, but… “I kinda thought Wambus and I were gonna be looking after the animals today.”

Triffany sighed an exaggerated sigh and Gramble instantly felt bad. “Please? Just this once, and then you can play with Wambus all summer.”

The phrasing made Gramble blush all over again, reaching up to comb down his fur with one paw and shove a piece of pancake into his mouth with the other. The aforementioned Wambus gave a chuckle, gesturing with his coffee.

“Go with Triffy. She can get  _ very _ impatient, and you don’t wanna see that. Besides, I have some things I need to take care of and trust me,  _ you  _ don’t want to be there for that.”

After a moment staring at Wambus, who acted as though he  _ hadn’t _ just said something incredibly intriguing yet subtly horrifying, he decided that yes- perhaps he didn’t want to be there.

“I guess if you insist,” he said, glancing at the now exuberant Triffany with a small smile. “Should I wear work clothes?”

“Just wear something you’ll be comfortable hiking in, it’s a little bit of a ways away from the farm. Do you have a backpack?”

“I have a shoulder bag.”

“That’ll be perfect! Ya never know what you’re gonna wanna take back with ya.”

Wambus turned to look at the clock on the wall before rising, picking up his plate, and placing it into the sink carefully. “That’s about my cue to exit. I’ll see you two tonight, alright? Don’t rush through your diggin’ on my account.”

He bent down to give Triffany a small kiss on the cheek, and patted Gramble on the shoulder on his way out. Gramble swallowed, and after a brief moment of nerves, reached out and patted Wambus on the arm as he walked out. The taller grumpus paused, and glanced back down at him a moment before cracking a smile, and turning to leave. Gramble let out a breath he’d been holding. Okay. He could handle normal grumpus interactions. Easy. Triffany ended up doing sort of the same, placing a paw on Gramble’s shoulder to give it a jovial shake.

“Well what’re we waiting for?” she said, “let’s clean this place up and get a move on!”

So they did, and throughout the entire fifteen minutes it took to do so, Gramble managed to resist the urge to ask what exactly Wambus was going to be doing all by himself. He was shooed off before he had the chance to, though, and he came back with his foraging bag, a little tan bag slung over his shoulder. Triffany placed her paws in front of her mouth, just looking at him. 

“What?” he asked, “you think it’s not big enough?”

“I think it’s adorable!”

Crap. There he was blushing again. He reached up to rub his face, and nodded. “Thanks… let’s go, then.”

“Hope you like walkin’!” Triffany ended up leading Gramble out the door onto the porch, where a familiar sight was waiting for them. Gramble’s strawberry hat, hanging off of the porch railing, nice and dry and smelling like sauce. He let out a delighted noise before grabbing for it, and shoving it on his head happily. Wambus must have brought it back for him the night prior, after their little moment. As he was inspecting it to be sure it was alright, he missed Triffany walking past him, and waving her arm in the air for him to follow. He snatched up his pack, and ran after her, down the trail away from the farm and into the unknown.

“Isn’t this fascinating, Gramble?” Triffany exclaimed as they walked along the broken up trail, up and down the hilly roads, in and out of the trees. “Some of these trees are at  _ least _ five hundred years old. Countless grumps have lived here, and this forest has outlived them all. Oh, imagine what they’d say if they could talk!”

“Probably ask to be left alone,” Gramble said offhandedly, distracted as he was by the world around him. Triffany chortled. 

“You mean  _ leaft _ alone?” she exclaimed, and although she wasn’t anticipating much of anything, she still got the smallest of chuckles out of Gramble, who tugged his hat down, and found himself drawn over to the base of a tree, crouching down to peer at something. Triffany, in her focused way, ended up walking along a good few yards before realizing he wasn’t following her anymore. “Gramble?”

She ended up jogging back to him, and bending over to investigate his find. Rows of mushrooms in dark brown and black clusters, and Gramble was gently touching one, testing to see if it was good. “Hen of the wood,” he said, “it’s edible, actually it’s really good… do you have a knife?”

“I have a pocket knife.”

“That’ll work.”

Triffany flicked it out and tossed it to Gramble, who grabbed it in mid-air (which made Triffany blink in surprise, she wouldn’t have thought a grump with as little sleep as he got would have such quick reflexes), and proceeded to cut along the base of the mushroom, harvesting it carefully. He ended up getting a big slab of it, breaking that apart, and sliding it into his foraging bag with a grin, before passing the knife back to Triffany. She held up her paw.

“You keep it,” she said. “You know, i’ve always wanted to try foraging, but my skills are in identifying animal remains and ancient art, i’m no botanist.”

“Do you hunt?” he asked, rising and brushing off his knees. “It’s kind of like hunting.”

“Hmm, no, i’m no good at shootin’ a gun, but I took archery in college. I still keep up with it, sometimes, except for that time I hit Wamby.” She held out one paw, and drew the other back in the pantomime of a bow. When he had heard she once shot Wambus, Gramble grew alarmed. 

“Was he okay?” he asked as they resumed their hike.

“Oh ya,” she replied, waving her paw with an assuaging smile. “The arrow just missed his shoulder and caught his shirt, stuck him to a building. My aim wasn’t as good as it is now. I’ll show you sometime. You play any sports, Gramble? ...Gramble?”

She looked around, and discovered the pink grumpus once again pulling things out of the ground, and Triffany laughed. “We’re never going to get to the village at this rate,” she said, heading back to him, where he was harvesting plants. 

“Scallions!” Gramble exclaimed, holding up fistfuls of the little green stalks. “And I think that’s wintergreen over there! There’s a whole dinner out in these woods! You don’t spray pesticides around here, do you?”

Triffany had to admit to herself, there was something charming about watching the little grumpus run around, picking things off of the ground and trees and rambling off his finds. It wasn’t until she saw him deliberating over a pile of wavy mushrooms she placed a paw on his shoulder. “Gramble, I think that’s good for now, doncha think?”

“Just a second,” he said, “I-I’m trying to figure out if this is poisonous. If it’s not, it’s actually delicious. If it is, it’ll mess up your gut  _ real _ bad...”

Triffany had memories- multiple memories in fact- of going into the medical hut back on Snaktooth and finding Gramble in there, his face half-way into a wooden bucket, and Eggabell at the end of her rope. Apparently, he had quite the affinity for getting sick on the island, trying to find things to eat that weren’t bugsnax. It seemed she would be having a similar problem, soon, if she did not  _ do something _ . So, she gripped him by the arm and hoisted him up with shocking strength, and put him over her arm in a fireman carry, trekking through the woods with a warm hum on her lips. 

“Whoa, hey!” Gramble cried, clutching his bag to make sure it would not fall, “I would have figured it out before I brought it home!”

“By takin’ a nibble, right?”

“...Probably not.”

“Gramble, you really are a sweetheart, but I have a thing about holding heads up over toilets. I’d rather not do it, yanno.”

“That’s… fair.”

It wasn’t a terribly long hike- just about an hour and a half, and Triffany ended up putting Gramble back down when he promised not to wander off anymore. He didn’t, even when he saw some very interesting plants lining the trail, but after a while there was no longer a trail, and the two of them were wandering through increasingly thick, brambly underbrush, crawling with (thankfully not  _ crawling _ ) blackberries. Their fur suitably protected them from the small thorns, but they were still careful not to wade directly into them. 

“Can I at least pick some of these?” he asked, and after a moment of deliberation, Triffany gave him permission. So he filled his bag. It was clear they had been growing undisturbed for a while, judging by the way they sprawled out, and how sizable some of them were. It wasn’t until after he reached his hand in rather deeply that he ended up touching something, hard and flat. Something made of wood?

“Hey Triffy!” he called before stopping, and blushing harshly. Oh no. Maybe only Wambus was allowed to call her that. She didn’t say anything when she jogged over, knocking some brambles out of her way.

“Ya? Find something?”

“Something under the bush,” he said, and pulled some of them apart to show her. After a moment, Triffany reached into one of her pockets to pull out a little roll of something, and slipped on the gloves.

“Always use protection,” she said with a wink before reaching in, and pulling. It was rather stuck in there, but after a few good wrenches, she managed to yank it off, only to have it break into two pieces in her paws. Gramble looked horrified.

“Oh grump, i’m sorry!” he said, his paws on his cheeks, “I should have said it… felt… delicate or-”

“Gramble!” Triffany exclaimed, putting the wood down and reaching inside again. She ended up pulling out a long, flat comb, broken up into hexagonal segments. “It’s a beehive!”

“...You sure you want to be messing with a beehive?” he asked.

“If we haven’t been swarmed by now we’re gonna be fine, I think this hive’s been abandoned for years! And you just found this?”

“Just under the berries, yeah.”

“Must have been here for a long time for all this to have grown over it,” she said, gesturing wide to the myriad fruit. “I wonder if there are more… I think next time we come here i’ll have to bring my machete.” 

She reached back down, laying the comb amongst the remnants of the hive before reaching down to grab Gramble’s paw, and all but drag him into the limits of the village, where cabins began to come into view. He blushed furiously, thoughts bouncing around in his head as she pulled him on, until they were standing on the cusp of a community, frozen in time.

Gramble clutched his bag as they crossed the threshold, looking around at the structures with no small amount of awe. Triffany had been right- aside from the normal amount of decay that would come around after so many years, they looked recently lived in. Clothes were still hanging on the clotheslines, and there were toys visible just through the windows. Gramble felt a bit nervous, being there, like he was trespassing onto something gentle and terrible, he just didn’t know what was under his feet, yet.

“It’s even more monumental than I remembered!” Triffany said, clasping her paws together, and approaching a well, almost in the center of the village, and looking down into it curiously. “Usually the Lottablogs were known for studying things that are much older than this, but you can tell just from being here that something…  _ happened _ that left quite the imprint here! No wonder they call it haunted!”

The pink grumpus could vouch for that feeling. He kept looking over his shoulder, as if afraid that the old inhabitants of the place were still around, and were spying on them, imploring them to leave them alone. He hadn’t got that feeling the whole trip there, but once they were  _ around… _

“How old is this place?”

“Hard to say. No one seems to know. The building’s architecture appears to be from the 1700’s, but the level of decay on them would imply that they’ve been around much, much longer. Probably not what i’d call ancient history, so it’s not entirely in my wheelhouse… but when the surrounding land is so cheap because of a mystery, it has to catch your attention, doesn’t it?

“Sounds kind of horrifying.”

“Just try and look for anything with a date on it,” Triffany asked, inspecting some markings on the stone of the well. “These markings on here look to be from a sign of a struggle, you think? Or maybe it was just a grump sharpening their claws… either way!” Her head turned back, and she smiled excitedly at Gramble. “Why don’t you have a look around? I’m going to make a rubbing of this.”

“Uh…” he said quietly, still turning around and looking around; still nervous that they weren’t alone. “S-Sure!”

He held up his paw and furrowed his brow, before closing his eyes and walking in a random direction. When his paw hit a doorknob of a random house, he turned it (and was very surprised it did turn), and pried it open, revealing the inside of the cabin. Every footstep forward shouted at him to turn away and not embroil himself in potential supernatural leanings, but  _ those _ thoughts were drowned out by his own treacherous desire to not let Triffany down. Dammit.

So he looked. He found plates in the cabinets and a tablecloth on the table, and even gloves under the bed in the corner of the room, but no remnants of grumps having lived there otherwise. No fur or bones, and frankly he was happy about that. It seemed like there was nothing Triffany hadn’t already observed, and he was already turning to run out of there when his foot caught on something under a bug-eaten rug, and he went toppling over. “Oow…”

“Gramble? You alright, hon?”

“Y-Yeah!” he shouted, working himself back up onto his feet and turning around to throw the rug off of the incriminating object. His eyes widened at the trap door hidden there, and with his breath caught in his throat, he reached down to grab the metal handle. Isn’t this how horror movies began? His arm was shaking as he yanked, the door refusing to give at all at first until he gave another good tug, and then another, and by the third one he had finally pulled it free, revealing a descent into darkness and… a sweet smell. He clutched his chest, feeling a foreboding guilt as he slowly placed a foot down onto the rickety old stairs that had been revealed, and began his careful plunge into the pitch. 

It was too dark to see anything inside, save for the light filtering through the open door, and the particles of dust floating idly in the air through the sunbeam. He had to squint, his eyes trying to adjust, and after a good few minutes, he could finally see what was surrounding him. Pots and jars, and nothing more. He wished he’d brought a flashlight, wouldn’t that have been obvious?

He reached out, paused a moment, and grabbed one of the containers, lifting it up and shining it under the beam of light to try and make out what it was. He rubbed the residue off, or attempted to- it was a thick layer of faintly sticky dust had formed on it, and even if he got most of it off, he doubted he’d be able to tell what was in it without opening it. Although he was still worried, and now faintly terrified, his curiosity was beginning to rear its head, and after looking around once more, to be  _ sure _ he was alone, he attempted to pull the jar open. It was stuck. He tried again, putting all of his strength behind it, where was Wambus when you needed him?

“Gramble? Where’d you go?!”

He let out a yelp, shocked, and the jar slipped from his paws. All he could hear was the sound of a crash in the darkness, and the splash of something viscous on his legs. “Eeuugh…” he groaned, hoisting his pack over his shoulder tighter so it wouldn’t get covered in goop.

“I’m down here!” he cried, and suddenly Triffany’s head popped into view at the top of the stairs, and she grinned wildly.

“See? I’m glad I brought you, now! I might not have ever discovered this if you had stood home!” 

“I think i’m covered in slop…” he said, terribly flushed with embarrassment. “Do you have a flashlight?”

“Oh ya, hang on,” she said, and pulled a light from her pocket to drop it down to him. He grabbed it, and turned it on, shining it and lighting up the world around him. The walls were filled with jars, all possibly filled with the same substance, which when illuminated, revealed a glossy, yellow substance, and sliced fruit wrinkled and supple among it.

“What is it, hon?” Triffany yelled.

With a moment’s pause, Gramble reached down, poked his finger into it, and to Triffany’s horror, popped it into his mouth. He slowly stepped out of the puddle, and looked up at her. “It’s honey!”

“Don’t do that again!” she said, and then put a paw on her face in thought. “Although if it’s honey, it’s technically still good… is it good?”

“...Tastes a bit off.”

“Well don’t try it again!” A small laugh bubbled up in him, and he couldn’t believe it himself as he looked up into Triffany’s face, where the relief was palpable. “Whatever wiped this place out obviously didn’t do it with honey- come on up, now, and grab one of those for the road! I can study its contents back at the house!”

“Alright,” Gramble replied, as he grabbed one of the smaller jars and began to shake one of his feet to try and get some of the stuff off of him. He would need a shower badly when he got home, and in the midst of his shaking, accidentally thrust his foot into the wall. The suitably decayed wood splintered and shattered painlessly around him, and he let out a shocked noise from the feeling, yanking his foot back and shining the light into the space to make sure he hadn’t invaded some animal’s domicile.

“What’re you doing down there, hon?” Triffany asked, “should I come down?”

“N-No!” he shouted, bending to peer into the hidden chamber, no bigger than a breadbox, and found inside, a book. It was a bit shoddy, and the leather was worn and scuffed, but it didn’t fall apart when he grabbed it, and he pulled it out to blow the dust off. That layer came off easily, but there was no identifying marker on it, just a symbol he didn’t recognize.

“Gramble?” Triffany asked.

“I found a book!”

“What?”

He slipped it into his foraging bag and carefully maneuvered around the broken container, hopping back onto the ladder to pull himself up, and Triffany gave him a bit of a goofy smile at the sight of his legs, covered in reddish honey that was also beginning to stain his sweater vest. The sweater may have been toast, but he pulled out the book, and handed it to her. She took it, and opened it up. It was old, and looked hand-bound, and the inside was written in some kind of shorthand, or perhaps symbols. She seemed overjoyed. Gramble was just confused.

“How’d you find this?” she asked.

“I, uh… put my foot through the wall…  _ on accident! _ ” He held up his paws, as if to reassure her it was purely grumpus error, and not anything with malicious intent. “And this was in a little crawlspace.”

“Anything else?”

“No, just this.”

“Gramble, this is extraordinary!” she cried. “I’d hug you, but I don’t want to get covered in hundred year old honey… I think this may be written in a cipher.”

“What’s that?” he asked, although he was sure that he had once heard Snorpy going off about something sounding like that back on Snaktooth.

“A language made of symbols, it’s like a code,” she explained. “Whoever wrote this didn’t want any grumpus to find it. But  _ we _ did!” Triffany hugged it to her chest, tapping her feet on the ground excitedly, like a grump half her age, and Gramble just smiled at her, still just a tad nervously. “Perhaps they were from a secret society attempting to live away from the rest of the world.”

“Maybe we should call Snorpy.”

“Hmm. You know, I’m not sure I want Snorpy poking around here. Nothing against the man, but he can be very… intense, and these ruins are extremely delicate, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t want him setting up his anti Grumpiwhatsist stuff in my house.”

Gramble couldn’t argue with that. “I can try and translate it at home, maybe it’ll shed some light on the situation,” Triffany said with a nod. “Heck, i’ll settle for figuring out a date. Whatcha got there?”

“Uh…” Gramble said, holding up the dusty container. “Looks like maybe fruit? Or meat. In honey. I can only  _ assume _ it’s still edible, the other stuff was…”

“Fascinating, an ancient way of preserving food practiced by some of the oldest grumpus civilizations… I guess that would make sense to have here, if they weren’t a contemporary society… but the architecture, though…”

Triffany furrowed her brow, her nose wrinkling before she let out a small sigh, turning the book over in her paws. “We’re not gonna get any closer to solving this mystery without some time to sleep on it, I think… and we better get home before that broken jar attracts wildlife. Bears, and the like.”

Gramble blinked, looking vaguely horrified. He could barely wrangle snaxs that were half the size of a damn  _ bear _ , so he nodded, and the two of them began to leave, the place standing not-quite-forgotten behind them. The trip home was harrowing in the sense that it was filthy for Gramble. While Triffany went on about the implications of the strange tome, Gramble was picking sticky pieces of grass and twigs out of his fur with faint cusses, only to get it on his paws when he tried. By the time they arrived back at the farm he looked faintly miserable, but Triffany’s sympathetic expression still managed to coax a smile out of him. A small, tired one, but it was there. As they approached the house, they were stopped by Wambus, who was sitting on the porch, fanning himself with his hat. He kicked something across the porch as if to hide it, a pair of bloody gloves.

“What in the grump happened to you two?” he exclaimed, gesturing with his free paw to Gramble’s everything as he put his hat back on. “You been digging through sludge? You ain’t bringing that into my house!”

“Oh, Wamby!” Triffany said, stomping up to him and holding up the book, grinning broadly as if to distract him from Gramble’s state. “Look what we found! There’s the possibility that it’s  _ hundreds  _ of years old, we don’t know for sure!”

“...I’ll be damned, huh, you found this?” he said, taking it gently to open and peer at. He didn’t understand it either.

“Gramble found it!”

“Issat so?” 

Gramble was back to blushing harshly, watching as the two of them talked over his find. Triffany was too busy gushing, but Wambus did seem equally impressed.

“Archeological discovery or  _ not _ ,” Wambus suddenly said, passing the book back to Triffany. “You’re still not coming into my house like that, come on.” He approached Gramble to grab him by the shoulder, but before he could lead him off, Gramble shucked off his pack and tossed it to Triffany.

“Just leave it in the kitchen! I’ll prepare it later!” he shouted, but he was already being pulled off by Wambus. Triffany laughed, waving them both off as she scurried back into the house. Wambus ended up leading him all the way to the middle of the farm to the barn, and Gramble could finally see the animals. There was a coop where fat chickens were wandering around, along with one very mean looking rooster, and a couple of ducks. Inside the nearby stable was a single orange furred horse, idly trotting around without a care in the world, and just outside the barn, Wambus was retrieving a hose, and it was only until then Gramble noticed the blood on the ground. He clutched his sweater vest nervously.

It took him a moment to realize what Gramble was staring at. “...It’s just chickens. Gettin’ too old. Weren’t giving eggs. Put ‘em in the freezer.”

Right. They both still ate meat. Gramble couldn’t have expected them to keep them as pets. This was their livelihood.

He didn’t have long to dwell on it before the water turned on, and he was splashed with water that was deceptively warm. The hose had been sitting out in the heat, after all. A paw found his sweater and tugged it off, and Gramble grabbed for his chest as a reflex. It wasn’t any different of a chest than any other grumpus- fluffy and soft, and pink- but he was still faintly embarrassed as he took the hose and began to wet himself down and work the honey out of his fur.

Wambus turned around, giving him some privacy. “You two have a good time?”

“Yeah,” Gramble said, bashful. He flashed back to being in the town, calling her Triffy. Had she even noticed? He was afraid of what Wambus would do if he found out.

“Good,” he said, crossing his arms. Silence transpired between them a moment before Gramble chewed on his lower lip, and smiled.

“I didn’t know you could ride,” he said.

“What? The horse?” Wambus chuckled. “Helps me plow the fields when it’s time to plant. Can’t do it all by myself anymore, especially not a plot this big.”

“Only one, though? Does Triffy ride?”

He stopped, nearly dropping the hose. Oh grump. He’d been thinking about it, and then he’d done it again. He hadn’t meant to! He screwed his eyes shut, anticipating a scolding- but it never came.

“I got two.”

Gramble swallowed, and when it became obvious he wasn’t about to be destroyed, opened his eyes, and let out a silent sigh of relief. “...So then where’s the other one?”

“I keep him in a separate stable. He’s… not friendly.”

“Not friendly as in…?”

“I’ll show you another time. Get yourself cleaned up.”

It took about a half hour to get all of the old honey out of his fur, and Wambus shut the hose off when he’d finished. The smaller grump was left with no sweater, sopping wet, and completely mortified, but he was clean. “Come on,” Wambus said, gesturing with his head. “Normally i’d just hang you from the clothesline, but that might not work out, considering.”

He laughed, and Gramble wagered his own nervous chuckle as they walked back, and Wambus gave him a little jocular punch on the arm. “Oow…” Gramble mumbled, rubbing the place he’d been struck. Wambus immediately looked guilty.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thought you could take it.”

“I can take it!” Gramble exclaimed, narrowing his eyes. He remembered how most of their fights on Snaktooth had not erupted into violence, except for the one time, which was slappy more than anything. Wambus chewed on his piece of wheat, and smirked down at Gramble.

“You can, can’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“I mean you’re tougher than you look, Gigglefunny,” he replied, and Gramble went quiet. He flexed his arm a little- nothing special. Wambus chuckled, and flexed his own arm, revealing quite the substantial muscle beneath his soft, blue fur. Nothing as grand as Chandlo’s, but nothing to sneeze at. Gramble glanced away, and Wambus crouched down to his level. “Why don’t you give me a good hit?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Go on, sock me right in the arm,” he said, gesturing towards himself. “Never got a chance to really do it on Snaktooth. Consider this some well-deserved payback.”

“I don’t want to hit you,” Gramble protested. Wambus smirked.

“Oh, yes ya do.”

A year ago, yes, Gramble would have direly wanted to hit the smug grumpus. He would have wanted to shove his paw into his mouth and yank out a tusk, but now… This close, Wambus’s face was right in front of him, on his level, smirking lazily, and Gramble stood there, still dripping faintly, and he was worried, for just a moment, what would happen if he took a step closer…

Instead he swallowed, his heart hammering, and pulled back, hauling forward and punching Wambus right in the shoulder. The impact actually sent the grumpus off of his heels, and tipping back into the dirt, where he landed on his back. Gramble was horrified.

“Oh grump!” he said, stepping to the side and retrieving his hat, which had fallen off of his head from the impact. “ _ I’m sorry, I am so sorry- _ ”

But Wambus was laughing.

“Shit, Gramble, didn’t think you actually had it in you for a moment,” he said, taking his hat from him and placing it back on his head. “So I guess we’re even now, huh?”

Gramble felt as though he was going to go into cardiac arrest. He had just  _ punched _ his host. Granted, he’d been invited, but still! He could feel the phantom impact of Wambus’s shoulder against his knuckles still, flexing his paw back and forth, and he had to inhale sharply just to make sure he still could. He wanted to fret a little, but the larger man didn’t seem hurt. “Yeah I… guess we are.”

“Come on, best not leave Triffy waiting.”

“R-Right, Triffany,” he said, running to catch up with him. Wambus had such long legs. “I found a whole bunch of great stuff to cook with tonight!”

“You hunt?”

“No, but I forage!”

“Ain’t that what kept you almost getting killed on Snaktooth?”

“Just… try it. I promise it’ll be alright.”

Gramble cooked the mushroom just like a steak, slicing it into thick slabs and making it in the same skillet he’d used that morning (he loved cast iron, he’d hoped one day he’d be able to own one). He grilled them with scallions and shallots that Triffany and Wambus had on hand, herbs, spices, and concocted a wintergreen tea to be served beside it. Wambus was… concerned with the idea of eating anything from a haunted forest, but Triffany was fine with it. In fact she seemed highly distracted even when Gramble served them, itching to get back to her work on the book.

When they did all sit down, however, she did have good news. “I think I know what it is,” she said, biting into the mushroom slice. “I think it’s a diary!”

“No fooling?” Gramble asked, eyeing Wambus, as Wambus eyed the food.

“Just eat it, Wamby, it’s not gonna kill you,” Triffany said, patting his shoulder, before blinking and narrowing her eyes. “Where’d you get this bruise?”

Wambus finally took a bite. It was… good. Actually. He was wondering whether or not he was getting used to not eating meat. “Gramble and I got into a little tussle.”

“No we didn’t!” Gramble cried, clutching his utensils.

“He won.”

“ _ No I didn’t! _ ”

Triffany placed her paw beneath her chin, and gave a small laugh. “Long as you boys don’t fight in the house.”

Gramble felt like he would fall apart, just sitting there in the overwhelming presence of these two. His knees felt weak, and if he hadn’t been sitting, he suspected he’d be on the floor. It wasn’t fair.

“So! Uh, a diary?”

Triffany nodded. “It  _ seems _ very personal. It doesn’t offer much insight as to the machinations of the workings of the colony, but whoever they were, they lived in the settlement, worked as a beekeeper, and had a little crush on another grumpus.”

“Aw,” Gramble said, smiling a little. “That sounds cute.”

“Oh ya, it’s amazing what you can learn from these first-hand accounts, even if it’s nothing  _ inherently _ useful to solving the mystery.”

“What else is in it?”

“Well. I don’t know. Some of it is damaged… actually a  _ lot _ of it is damaged. Even if I do manage to get it figured out, we may never know the ending.”

The idea of not knowing suddenly made Gramble’s chest hurt. Or maybe that was just the culmination of the entire day’s escapades finally catching up to him. He tried to hide it, and Wambus leaned over to Triffany to whisper something to her. She brought her paw up to her mouth, and smiled. 

“Ain’t that a hoot?”

* * *

A pair of paws were upon him, in his dreams. Gramble was breathing slowly, his eyes closed- but they were still unmistakable. They touched his face, and moved down his neck to his shoulders, and gripped his paws, and there was terrible comfort within them. He was afraid if he opened his eyes, they would be gone.

“ _ Triffany…?”  _ he said into the void, “ _ Wambus…? _ ”

A fingertip pressed to his lips. A warm, powerful arm curled around him. He grabbed onto it tightly, nervously.

“ _ Is this okay? _ ”

He didn’t get an answer. He was afraid of what it was going to be, anyway.


	5. The Pact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Gramble becomes the protagonist of a horse movie. If I made any mistakes regarding horse handling, please forgive me. I am too a suburb grump.

It wasn’t something he really thought he cared much about, but as it stood- right then- he cared very much. He cared about the paws on his shoulders. He cared about the paws on his face. He cared about the grumpus behind him. He cared about the one before him. His breath came deep and slow. His breath came quick and hot.

_“Gramble…”_

Paws ran up over his chest, claws down to the skin… 

_“Gramble.”_

Tall bodies, looming over his…

_“Gramble! Wake up!”_

“HRK- huh?”

Gramble snapped back into reality, a tumultuous thrust away from his sweet dreams. Somehow, in his sleepy state, he had walked all the way out past the barn, behind it, and wound up butting up against a fence around a large round enclosure, where one animal was watching insidiously inside. He was covered in red stains from walking clear through a ketchup patch, and Wambus grabbed him by the shoulder to gently lead him away from the area. 

“Coulda walked into your certain death, you’re lucky I was out here,” Wambus grumbled. Gramble looked up at him, confused.

“Was I walking into the street?” he murmured.

“No, but you mighta found your way through that fence.”

“What’s behind the fence?”

“Bad animal.”

Gramble cracked a smile, reaching up to brush some ketchup off of his face. It had been two weeks since the excursion into the abandoned village, and it seemed as though since then, he couldn’t keep himself clean to save his life. Wambus had thoughts about Gramble sleepwalking through his ketchup fields, but he kept them to himself. “Wambus, there’s no such thing as a bad animal.”

“Not a bad animal, then, just a mean one. You’re not ready to meet them and i’m not ready to scrape your fur and guts up off the ground when they pulverize you. Let's get you cleaned up.”

Gramble turned his head around as they moved further and further away from the enclosure. There was a stable inside- Wambus’s fabled other horse? Through the time he’d started helping him care for the animals, he had grown close enough with his one horse- a happy-go-lucky, sweet thing named Lina, who helped with moving things around the property and other such chores, but Wambus had been steadfastly against him interacting with the other animal. It didn’t seem right, to Gramble, to isolate a creature, but as he turned his head away, he could have swore he saw something within the stable glowering at him.

“I found him,” Wambus said as they entered the house, to a Triffany who had been quite a bit worried. She stared, vaguely horrified. “It’s just ketchup. Walked right through the patch.”

“Yeah…” he said, reaching up to try and rub it out of his fur. Over the weeks he’d been working with the sauce, he’d come to the acknowledgement that some sauces cleaned out better than others. Ketchup was one of the easier ones, but not the easiest- believe it or not, that was peanut butter. Ketchup also had a more pungent odor than other sauces like ranch and hot sauce, which made it more annoying in that sense. The hardest of all was the chocolate sauce- it stained, and it stuck to everything. He’d only gotten it on him once, and vowed ever since then, he would be wearing gloves. “I’m just going to go take a shower… i’ll be right back.”

When he returned he was rubbing himself with a towel, and Triffany was talking with Wambus. He looked behind the towel bashfully, and a cup of tea was pressed into his paw. “Here you go, kid.”

“Thanks, Wambus,” he replied, sipping gently. “I’m not sure what’s triggered it this time. I was fine up until recently…”

“This happened a lot on Snaktooth,” Triffany pointed out. “What caused it on Snaktooth?”

“Anxiety, and… sometimes foreboding? I get these… feelings of dread. I don’t know.” Gramble swallowed, “I’ve had it all my life. I suspect it’s been really hard to deal with for most grumps. Maybe… maybe that’s why they all left.”

He felt himself blush, and hid behind his mug. “I mean… it’s nothing. Just. Just something I have to carry on my own back.”

“You’re talking about your family, aren’t you?”

Gramble cast a shocked look up at Triffany, who was sitting on the sofa with her eyes on him, thoughtfully. “H-How did you…?”

Triffany’s eyes widened, the possibility that it hadn’t exactly been public knowledge never having occurred to her. “Just… heard it on the grapevine.” She was protecting whoever told her, which made sense to Gramble, as embarrassed as he was by it. It could have been Beffica, or it could have been Buddy… after all he had had that interview. He sighed.

“Uh huh,” he relented, “I just... wish I knew why.”

“Any grumpus that leaves another over the bad shit in their brain is a dang bastard, Gramble, don’t dwell on them,” Wambus said abruptly, his arms folded in front of him and a scowl on his face. Gramble stood, staring in shock, before Wambus tugged his hat down over his face, mumbled something about checking on the ketchup, and abruptly left. Gramble wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but Triffany’s paw fell on his shoulder, jarring him from his nerves.

“Wamby’s had a lot of… tribulations in his own mind. He can get intense,” she explained, flashing back herself to Snaktooth. “I can go talk to him, if you like.”

“No, no!” Gramble replied, shaking his head. “I kind of like knowing he has my back…”

“Better get used to it, because now he’ll never get off of it!”

Gramble’s fur stood on end, and he nodded slowly. He could deal with that.

Thankfully, there was always some way to busy himself on the farm in between his own little projects. The clothes he was working on for Wambus and Triffany were coming along nicely (he might need to go get some more yarn, though, which Triffany said probably wouldn’t be a problem, probably), and it had gotten to the point where he’d work himself so hard he’d have to take a nice, motionless nap. Whatever was kicking off the sleepwalking, he had a feeling it had to do with his dreams. Dreams about strong, rough paws moving over his body, lips pressing against his, treacherously blue and green. It was enough to make him blush.

So he did other things, to take his mind off of the needs that were welling up in him. Things like linger with the animals. He was very good with them, to absolutely no one’s surprise. He was the perfect height to hug every chicken while collecting the eggs, and he got along well with Lina, Wambus’s bright orange horse. This was no surprise, either. Lina got along with everyone. It was the other animal Gramble was truly curious about, lingering behind the barn to catch sight of every now and again. A big, purple horse, a colour not unlike Floofty’s, with a black mane that would mostly walk in a radius around the wide enclosure, as it to ward off any potential visitors. 

“You’re not giving up on Sisla, are you?” Wambus had said to him one day, having caught him staring. Gramble startled, but smoothed himself down.

“Sisla?”

Wambus motioned towards the animal with his head, his paws on his hips. “Damn guy hates everything and anything. I wait until he’s asleep to clean out the stable and give him food every night, and give him a free run of this area, try and keep him comfortable. Neighbors say it’s just not worth it, but it’s not his fault they abandoned him here.”

“Abandoned?”

“Yep. Owners said he went half-blind in some accident and just gave up on him. Probably another reason the plot was so cheap. I’ve tried to use him for work but he just does not like me. Or Triffany. That’s why I got Lina, she’s an amicable animal and she’s strong. Figure i’ll just let the old man have his run of the place until he leaves us through natural means, I refuse to put him down- Gramble? Gramble where are you goin!?”

Gramble’s little feet were carrying him forward, taking him all the way to the edge of the fence where he put his foot upon it, and hoisted himself up, vaulting over the side of it with surprising deftness. Wambus dropped the piece of wheat in his mouth, his eyes wide as saucers when he realized just what the grump he was doing.

“The FUCK are you doing? Get outta there!” he shouted, but Gramble was adjusting his hat, already approaching the massive animal. “Gramble, if that horse steps on you you will die!”

Gramble slowed his gait, until he was several yards away from Sisla, giving him a wide berth. The horse lifted its head, and that close, you could see the injury that left its one eye black and foggy. The horse immediately reared up, braying loudly at the intrusion, and Wambus was only a second away from leaping in there to distract it from Gramble (he could probably survive a swift kick, but Gramble probably would not) when the pink grumpus smiled a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said, talking to Sisla as if he were Sprout, if Sprout were a monstrous horse. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just wanted to meet you. Grump, you're beautiful!"

"Gramble!" Wambus hissed. The horse huffed, turning its body to get a better look at the small grumpus out of its good eye.

"There, see? It's okay. You know, they told me all about you. I heard about… what happened. You poor thing… left all alone. I… know how that feels. To be abandoned by grumps you thought loved you."

"Gramble, it's a horse, he's not going to understand your tragic past!" Wambus said, and with a grumbling cuss began to lift himself over the fence to get to him. 

"No no no! Don't come in!" Gramble insisted, and Sisla reared up angrily at Wambus's intrusion, galloping straight up to the perimeter to chase him off. He hopped off the fence, holding his paws up defensively. 

"Grump dammit, Gramble," he hissed, gnashing his tusks together. Sisla turned back to Gramble, as if challenging him to try something. The horse scrapped its hoof on the ground, and Gramble simply held a paw out flat, waiting. Wambus wanted to go get Triffany, maybe she would have some advice, or could at least call an ambulance, but he couldn't just leave him there.

Sisla snorted, walking up to Gramble with cautious irritation. Gramble averted eye contact, but smiled. Slowly, the horse butted its nose up against his paw, and when Gramble began to stroke across its face gently, it closed its eyes and gave a warm huff.

"...Son of a grump…" Wambus murmured, in complete disbelief.

"Aww, there you go, you're just a big sweetheart," Gramble said happily, Sisla butting him with his head gently. "Wambus saying you're mean, I bet he just never tried."

Wambus ran a paw down his face, blushing profusely as his fur stood on end. "Un-grumping-believable…" he growled. It figured Gramble would be able to make friends with any animal that wasn't part of a parasitic hivemind. "Get outta there, Gigglefunny before you give me a coronary."

"I'll come back with some snacks later. How about that?" He said to the horse, who merely pulled away from him and trotted off. "Bye!"

"Gramble!"

"Alright, alright!" He said, and left through the gate. Outside, before he could speak for himself, Wambus grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him clear off the ground.

"Don't you ever, ever, do something that STUPID ever again!" He exclaimed. Gramble steeled his expression.

"It's just a horse, Wambus!"

"That horse has sent me to the hospital twice, Gramble! It's an enormous- and to you unfamiliar- animal! It coulda kicked you clear across the field, or bit ya, or stepped on ya. Have you ever been stepped on by a horse? It ain't fun!"

He was holding Gramble inches away from his face, positively blue (or even more blue than he could be) in the face from anger, and Gramble could sense he'd really done something foolish this time.

"If Sisla had hurt you something bad… what would I do? I can't get in there to help, you saw what he did when I tried. I'd be stuck watching you die!"

Slowly, Wambus lowered Gramble to the ground, and turned away from him, that the smaller grump might not see his anguish. Slowly, a paw landed on his arm, and Wambus looked down into Gramble's apologetic face.

"Sorry…" he murmured. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"I do," Wambus sighed and tilted his hat back up, looking toward the enclosure. "I gotta hand it to ya, though, you did in five minutes what I couldn't in a year. Good job, you little idiot."

Gramble blushed hotly, but still laughed a little, and Wambus patted his shoulder. "I can teach you how to ride. If you want."

"Really?"

"On Lina," he said firmly. "You master her, you can try putting a saddle on Sisla. Understand?"

"Yeah!" Gramble exclaimed, nodding vigorously. "Can we start now?"

"You serious?" Wambus asked incredulously, before sighing heavily. "Grump dammit. Alright. Let me get the stuff, I'll meet you at her pen."

Gramble took to riding like water to a duck, once he learned how to keep his balance. It helped that Lina was a much calmer horse. Wambus instructed him on proper posture, how to start and stop, how to handle being bucked, and Gramble noticed a certain gentleness in the other grump- another side to him.

"You paying attention?" He asked, snapping Gramble out of his reverie. Apparently, he'd been staring.

"I am!"

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing!"

"Cause you're smiling like a loon." Shoot.

By the time they returned to the house at sunset, Gramble had internalized a lot, but Wambus was adamant he practiced more.

"Sisla likes me, I bet he'd let me ride him," he argued. 

"You practice first, before you work up to the big leagues," Wambus argued. "Besides, you're not getting hurt on my account. If you die out here, Triffy is going to be very disappointed in you."

* * *

Wambus continued with their secret little lessons, and Gramble improved every day with shocking adeptness. It even got to the point he insisted on learning side-saddle.

"Don't push your luck," Wambus had told him. Gramble laughed, and he had to admit, he began to cherish their time together on the farm, looking forward each day to his teachings.

"If Triffany asks, you are not planning on riding Sisla," Wambus said one day. "It would only freak her out."

"You'd keep a secret from your wife?" Gramble asked, surprised. Wambus blushed, glancing away as Gramble fed Lina a carrot. 

"It's a little white lie, so she doesn't worry," he explained. "First time I tried to ride that horse he kicked me in the chest so hard my heart nearly stopped. Triffy cares about you something fierce, if you want to do this… she can't know."

He held out his paw, gesturing for Gramble to take it. "We got a deal?"

Gramble hesitated. He hated the idea of keeping anything from Triffany, but he had been working so hard that suddenly being banned from his goal seemed unthinkable. He clasped his paw with Wambus's and gave it a squeeze. 

"Only until after I've done it," Gramble said, resolute. "Then I want to show her."

"It's a deal, Gigglefunny."

So it went. Triffany was told he was practicing riding, as well as caring for the horses, noticeably leaving out any mention of the violent horse on the other side of the ranch. She seemed thrilled.

"I'm just glad you two are bonding!" Triffany said over dinner one night. "And that you've been keeping busy while I've been workin'!"

"Hey, yeah! How's the book coming along?" Gramble asked excitedly. In spite of his newfound studies, the diary's contents were there, in the back of his mind, stoking his curiosity. Triffany grinned triumphantly.

"Moving along, slowly but surely! It's a fascinating look into this grumpus's life. There's a lot of interpersonal drama going on! For instance, it turns out they didn’t just have a crush on a grumpus in the village, they appeared to have a crush on two settlers, who were married.”

“So what did they do?” Gramble asked, in rapt attention.

“I’m not sure, i’ve only translated about a third of the book. Still no dates, oddly enough. The cipher doesn’t seem to match any language or symbols i’ve come across in all my years of wrangling cryptography, so i’ve mostly been making my own translation guide.”

Gramble couldn't help but feel vaguely disappointed. Seemed like everytime he learned something new about this mysterious grump it brought along a new roadblock. A grump with an infatuation with a married couple… he blushed, keeping his head down as Triffany spoke to Wambus about the village and its beekeeping.

"Hey, uh. Triff?" Gramble asked, teasing his spoon through his soup. "You think I could see your notes? I'd like to read them, if that's okay."

Triffany blinked, and nodded. "Sure! Long as you don't mind my occasional departure from authenticity. A lot of the book is in old timey grumplish, so I've been attempting to make it more… hmm… readable for grumps not versed in it."

"That's perfect," Gramble said with a smile, "modern grumplish is the only grumplish I know."

That night, Gramble made some time to work on his projects before turning on the desk light and pouring over the diary. It really was fascinating, to peer into a life hundreds of years before his own. Even if most of it was beekeeping related. Finally, he got to something titillating, even if it was rife with Triffany's notes in the margins…

_‘I saw Lampton and Helody again today. They came into my home looking for a panacea_ **(a beekeeper, but also a doctor?)** _for an ailment of Lampton's. Something regarding a back injury. In private, he also asked me for something to make him look younger, make his fur look more vibrant. No doubt to impress his wife. It's preposterous, he's thirty-seven and looks as handsome as he did six years ago. I tried to tell him this. He laughed, it was ethereal._

_I told him the truth, that Helody had come in just days prior, asking for a similar beautifying remedy, and he just laughed, and grabbed my paw_ **(???)** _I told her the same thing I told him, and I told him this. What kind of world do we live in where the two most lovely_ **(either lovely or sublime, the cipher is very vague here)** _grumps in the world can find such flaws within themselves?_

_I did not say this. I lost my nerve.’_

There were plenty of entries like this. Curious, thoughtful looks into the lives of these two grumps through the lens of someone clearly enamored with both of them. They were the only names in the book, whoever wrote them electing to keep their identity a secret from whatever prying eyes might have peeked in in the future. Turned out they were right.

Gramble read until he couldn't read anymore, no more had been translated after a certain point, and the symbols were lost on him. So he shut the book and crawled into bed, thoughtful. Was it possible to empathize with the dead? He remembered something Shellsy had said to him on Snaktooth, back when she was still Shelda. About past lives.

When he next awoke he wasn't in his room. He'd managed to sleepwalk all the way out onto the property, all the way out to Sisla's fence, and the horse was chewing on his hair. Through his teachings with Wambus, he never stopped trying to earn the trust of the animal, and it seemed to work. Once, he'd even managed to put a blanket on him, to Wambus's surprise.

Wambus. 

Triffany.

“I don’t know what to do, Sisla,” Gramble lamented, watching the sunrise over the horizon. “Triffany is kind and sweet and smart, and Wambus is strong and tenacious and… comforting. Well they’re both smart just… different smart. An- And they're both comforting just… a different kind of comforting. This place feels like… like a home. I don’t know if i’d let either of them know that, though… I’m no homewrecker.”

He kept saying that. He kept thinking about it, and yet...

“I better get back before either of them wonder where I went. You know, you’re a really good listener, Sisla.” The horse didn’t respond, naturally, but it did stop chewing on his hair. Gramble sighed, and lifted himself up with a tight stretch, slowly making his way back to the house. Best not to worry the two of them. The house was silent when he walked in, and he wagered they must have still been asleep, so he crept through the house, and placed his paw on the doorknob to his room. Then, he heard it. A grunt, or perhaps a yelp? It made Gramble’s fur bristle. He stepped back slowly, and made his way down the hallway, his curiosity moving him onward, his paw finding itself hovering over the door to the master bedroom before he stopped, getting a hold of himself. 

_“Harder,”_ came a gruff voice from inside, _“do I look like a weakling to you?”_

_“Now is that any way to ask for something, Wambus?”_

Gramble’s eyes widened, Triffany’s voice followed by an unmistakable choking sound. Either she was killing him, or…

_“Please, Triffy… please...”_

_“Now that’s a good boy.”_

Utterly consumed, Gramble pressed his face against the door and peered in through the keyhole- and what he beheld was quite a sight. Wambus was on the bed, his wrists tied with black ropes onto the bed frame, his head reared back with a thick strap around his neck, being pulled hard- but not too hard- by none other than Triffany as she straddled his hips. He thrust in and out of her mercilessly, his hips bucking as she tightened the strap around his throat, eliciting pleasured gasps from the blue-furred grumpus. Her thighs clasped tight around his hips, and she held fast to the strap with delighted moans, bending down and placing hungry kisses across his face. Arousal burned within Gramble, his toes curling, positively unable to look away from the scene, even with the sorry excuse for a perspective he got from looking through the keyhole.

Slowly he pulled himself away, and ended up pressing his back against the wall, swallowing silently, his paws clutching at his chest ruff. It was almost unthinkable, seeing Triffany riding the man he had thought was so tough and brusque, someone with such a handle on things- not to mention the ropes. Did Wambus really… like that sort of thing? Selfish thoughts invaded his mind as he absconded to his room, and slammed the door a bit louder than he intended to as he crawled up into his bed, the heat from the moment echoing through him deviously. He clenched his eyes shut, unable to keep the image out of his mind- of Triffany atop him, the sound of Wambus’s voice as he begged for it. His paw descended, his knees pressed tight into the mattress and his ass shamelessly up as he pawed at the dense fur between his thighs, finding the hidden slit within to slide his fingers across, wetness clinging to his fingertips. He chewed on his lower lip, parting the slit to reach inside, and soon enough his cock was coaxed out, emerging from its protective sheath with a small gasp. His fur stood on end, his body quivered, and his paw worked the shaft quick and inexperienced but it got the job done, and soon enough he was quickly running the sheets to the washer, hoping against hope that no one would ask anything. As the machine whirled he stood there with his face in his (now washed) paws, ashamed and… eager. For something he couldn’t say.

“You really are a piece of work, Gramble…” he murmured, shaking his head. “Peeping on your hosts, can’t fucking believe you…”

He vowed to himself. He would never do it again.

Gramble tried to act normal around the two of them during breakfast. He tried to eat and sip his tea without remembering Wambus gasping and choking on the bed, or Triffany cooing sweet, terrible things to him. “Are you alright, hon?” he was startled into attention, looking up at Triffany, who was gazing upon him with concern.

“You look a tad pale.”

“I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile. “Just more sleepwalking last night.”

“Gotta tie a bell on your wrist, that way we can find ya,” Wambus said.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” Triffany replied thoughtfully. It seemed like it would be, until he realized it meant they would have found him, outside their door. 

“I’m fine! Really!” he exclaimed, “so, uh, when do you think you’ll have more of that diary translated?” 

Triffany noticed how quickly he changed the subject, but he was good at that. “Hard to say. Did you find anything edifying in it last night?”

“...Kind of,” he admitted, tapping his paws together. “Nothing you haven’t already seen. Just… this grump had a real interesting life, is all.”

Later that day, once the two of them had finished their chores, Wambus pulled Gramble aside while Triffany was back to work, and smirked at him. “You ready to put your skills to the test?”

* * *

Wambus still wasn’t completely sure about this as he watched Gramble carefully suit up Sisla. First a blanket, then a saddle, then a bridle, and he had to admit, he was pretty shocked at how docile the animal was for the entire set up. He sat by on Lina, who was as carefree as a horse could be, as usual. Maybe this would work out.  
  
“Just like we practiced,” Wambus said, nodding as he watched Gramble hoist himself up, and sit himself upon the horse. Sisla was massive, and it looked somewhat comical to see such a small grumpus riding atop him, but he gripped the reins, and cooed to him, combing his claws through his mane appreciatively. “Alright, now take it nice and slow.”

“Alright sweetheart lets show-” was all he managed to get out before Sisla reared up, and broke into a gallop, taking Gramble with him. The horse swept by in a blur, running around the enclosure furiously, rearing up wildly, as if it had never been ridden before in its life. Still, as determined as the animal was, Gramble could match it- he had learned from his failure with the big snax, after all. He leaned into the motion of the horse, holding as tight as he could to the reins without yanking on them, and after a few minutes of frenzied running, Sisla seemed to become aware that Gramble wasn’t going anywhere, and planted four hooves on the ground with a huff. Gramble’s fur was standing on end, and he had lost his hat amidst the chaos, but he’d passed the test.

“...You ever rode a mechanical bull before?” Wambus asked, smiling and obviously joking at how disheveled the other grumpus looked. Gramble swallowed, and did his best to smile back pridefully.

“Should I?”

“I’m just saying you might be able to make some money.” He trotted to the gate to open it, pulling it open as Gramble maneuvered Sisla out of the enclosure, only for the animal to huff at Wambus and Lina.

“Oh, be nice, please?” Gramble asked the horse, patting its neck. Sisla shook his head. Wambus gestured with his head.

“We’re just heading out to the other end of the property, I have to pick up some stuff from my still.”

“What kind of still?”

“A distillery.”

“What on earth do you make there?”

“Moonshine i’ve been experimenting with. Trying to make liquor out of sauce plants. I’ve only really had one success, and that’s with the chocolate. The only one that really tastes good, too. I sell it at the local farmer’s market as a novelty.”

“Ahh…” said Gramble. He knew absolutely nothing about anything he was saying, but he liked to listen.

They kept up a pretty even pace as they rode, Gramble occasionally having to redirect Sisla, as the horse occasionally wanted to chew on a sauce plant, and Wambus was reluctant to go any faster after the near incident in the pen. The sun was dipping low in the sky when they arrived at the still, and Wambus tried to help Gramble off the top of the horse, but was met with irritated protest from Sisla. “Looks like you’re on your own, Gramble.”

“I can get down,” he said, slowly scooting himself off. He landed heavily on his feet, and sighed. “Well, that wasn’t so bad! I don’t know how you never managed to do it before.”

Wambus ruffled his hair as he approached the still, rifling through some things before beginning to load Lina’s saddlebags with glass jars. Gramble peered over at them, where the clear brown liquid was stored, and he wrinkled his nose. “Grumps drink this?”

“It’s better than it looks, but it’s strong,” he said, opening one of the jars and taking a sip. He let out a hoot. “Whooo whee, that’ll get ya there.”

“...Can I see?” Gramble inquired, and Wambus closed the jar and tossed it to Gramble, who opened it up and gave it a little sniff. His eyes screwed shut from the intensity. “Grumping christ…” he murmured, and after taking one more look at Wambus, took a tiny sip. The taller grump was right- it was strong, and the chocolate clung to his tongue and the back of his throat in a rich, velvety way. He hadn’t even realized he was making a face until Wambus laughed at him.

“Careful, this stuff ain’t for lightweights.”

“I’m no lightweight!” Gramble protested. Wambus just crossed his arms.

“You won’t even drink wine at dinner, this sorta thing will knock you flat,” he began, but Gramble was already knocking back a huge swig. He was feeling defiant, and after everything that had happened that day, he figured one more dubious decision couldn’t hurt. Wambus stood by, his eyes wide, watching him as he pulled the jar from his lips, and noticed an immediate shift in his posture.

Wambus took the jar as Gramble gave a hiccup, “sit on down, before you hurt yourself.”

“I just… didn’t want you to think I was a wimp.”

“After everything you’ve been through? You really are an idiot.” Gramble sat down in the grass, sighing as he ran a paw down his face. He wasn’t sure why he was so determined to prove these things to Wambus. One day, it really would get him hurt. The larger grump sat beside him, and swirled the liquor in the jar. “Might as well not let it go to waste, we can’t sell it now,” he said, unscrewing the jar and having himself a swig. “If you’re gonna make your first drink be this, i’ll just have to be your drinking buddy, make sure you don’t get into trouble.”

“What trouble could we possibly get into out here?”

“You've obviously never grew up on a farm.”

With a couple mouthfuls of liquor in his system already, Gramble’s tiny body found it difficult to enact proper judgement. Pretty soon the jar was almost empty, and the two of them were lying in the field by the still, staring up into space. Gramble was significantly hammered, but Wambus still had his wits about him, which was good, because someone had to be.

“You know, I never would have said this a year ago, but, you’re pretty remarkable, Wambus,” Gramble said suddenly, counting the stars as they appeared in the sky, one by one.

“Aw, Gigglefunny, you’re drunk.”

“No! I mean it! Nobody else was trying to grow anything on Snaktooth. They all just… depended on the bugsnax. But you… you were doing something different. You were trying.”

“Don’t praise me too much, I still stole your snax when things got rough. At the end of the day, you were right to tell me off. I was a failure and I deserved what I got.”

“Aw Wambus, you couldn’t have… you couldn’t have known the island was a giant parasite, the fact that sauce was growing there before we got there was a miracle. Y-You can’t still think you’re a failure, after you made all this, can you?”

Wambus laughed, glancing around at the field, or what he could see from his vantage point. “I guess I can’t.”

A pause. “You’re a lot like the sauce, you know?”

“Whassat?”

“You and the sauce, you’re kinda similar. You’re both tenacious and hardy and handsome and… tall. Even in the face of stupid obstacles you don’t quit. How many other grumpuses can say the same?”

“...How the grump is sauce handsome?” Wambus asked, zoning in on that one little detail. Gramble blushed furiously, grabbing at his sweater as his nervousness ebbed out treacherously.

“...Plants can be handsome.”

“So then you admit it, you think i’m handsome?” _Oh grump_.

“Well, I mean… yes I do. I can admit it.”

“You really are drunk. Still pretty coherent, for your first time, though.”

“No! It’s true!” Gramble exclaimed, scrambling to sit up, his cheeks positively puffed up. “I-I I think you’re handsome a-and i’m not about to take it back! You and Triffany are both so pretty and big and happy. I- I don’t know whether I want to _kiss you_ or _be you_.” 

“...Wait, which one of us?”

“Both of you!” without warning he shoved his face up against Wambus’s chest, gripping onto his flannel shirt and just… needing the contact. “I just want to know what it all means… I know I'm a bad grumpus, but I can’t help myself…”

“You’re not a bad grumpus,” Wambus assured him, sitting up and wrapping an arm around him with a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not.”

“I am. I’m the worst.”

“Shh…” Wambus murmured, his paw gently gliding up to his hair, and finding it remarkably easy to comfort the smaller grump. The only thing he hoped for was that he didn’t cry- Wambus wasn’t great with sobbing. Luckily he didn’t have to worry about that. “Gramble?”

Gramble was letting out faint little snores against him, his face pushed firmly up against his chest. The warmth and comfort of the other grump, along with the copious amounts of alcohol, had lured him into a slumber, and thankfully Gramble was so tiny- it made it easier for him to load him up on Lina, and begin the ride back to the house. Sisla lingered for a while, munching on grass, but when he saw that Gramble was being carried off, he followed diligently.

Back at the house, Triffany was on the porch, legs and arms crossed, none too pleased. “Where have you two been all night?” Her nostrils flared. “You reek of moonshine.”

“Just having some fun, gettin’ drunk out in a field, that sort of thing.”

“I thought Gramble didn’t drink.”

“He decided this was the opportune time to get into dick measuring contest… and I think he may have won.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, i’m still standing, aren’t I?”

Wambus’s words managed to assuage her enough, though she followed him inside as he carried Gramble to the bedroom, and laid him down on the bed. They watched as he curled up, arms outstretched, and in a moment that surprised Triffany, Wambus took off his hat, and pressed it into Gramble’s arms. He immediately hugged it to his body, burying his face in it. Triffany placed a paw on Wambus’s shoulder, sensing something was up.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Wamby?”

He was thinking about Gramble’s words, the warm face pressed against his chest. The look in his eyes at his drunken admission.

“Nothin’.”

He was such a bad liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part of writing Bugsnax fanfiction is coming up with names.


End file.
